


The Cards We're Dealt In Life Can Make A Pretty Shitty Hand

by mikasasha



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F, F/M, Fat Shaming, Heavy Swearing, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, M/M, Past Abuse, Police Brutality, Racism, Racist Language, here is some disclaimers:, if i even make more, if there even is a later hehe, later tho........ later, most of these warnings dont even come in til later chapters, okay so looking at the tags this looks A LOT worse than it actually is, past tense self harm, recreational slurs, semi detailed sex, so dont worry, speaking of sex: theres a lot of it!, this is a romcom i swear, this is bordering on explicit, whatever its called when u get treated like shit for mental illness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-12 11:35:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7933072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikasasha/pseuds/mikasasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're all trying to get through life as easy as possible. Which is, of course, not easy at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cards We're Dealt In Life Can Make A Pretty Shitty Hand

**Author's Note:**

> a warning: there are a lot of slurs in this. please read all of the tags before u read this, there are a lot of heavy topics. if u continue to read, enjoy! :)
> 
> disclaimer: this is kinda just babbling and slice of life -esque stuff. basically the plot is just people trying to be happy. good to read if u just wanna read about the pairings or maybe some struggles minorities face :)
> 
> also i hardly proofread this so dont yell at me

The universe has to absolutely despise Jean Kirchstein to his very core. That's the only reason he could think of as to why Marco Bodt talks to _so many fucking people_ every fucking day.

 

The guy has so many friends. How can someone have _so many goddamn friends_? He's _always_ talking to someone. Every day before class, every day after class- fuck, even during class sometimes.

 

Marco will always have some over sized sweater and that huge fucking smile on his tan face and will laugh the same way to anyone that says anything to the guy. He gets so engaged in every conversation- he listens intently, he talks excitedly, he reacts to every word someone else says. He's such the perfect guy, and makes everyone feel welcome and loved.

 

It's driving Jean up the fucking wall. He can't stand it. It's making him sick.

 

School has been in session for only _two months_ and he's already tempted to go take a nap on some railroad tracks; just because of how fucking _chipper_  Marco Bodt, the flawless and handsome guy that sits next to him in Anatomy, is. Every second. Every day.

 

The guy haunts each waking moment of his entire goddamn life. Even on weekends and Fridays, when Jean doesn't see him at all. He could grind his teeth for hours just thinking of the guy's carefree giggles and dimples. Replaying his laugh mentally over and over has kept Jean up at night numerous times.

 

Now, the chances of Marco even knowing Jean exists are slim to none. They've never talked. But he knows _everything_ about the freckled fuck that sits next to him in Anatomy. He sits there, subjected to listening to his conversations, because his friendly voice is _so fucking loud_. Jean could practically talk to the people he speaks with _for_ him.

 

Why, yes, his favorite color _is_ yellow! And, oh, goodness, he could _never_ pick between cats and dogs. He's eighteen, but, _oh_! His birthday is on the 29th, right before Halloween! He just _loves_ indie music, but he'd listen to just about _anything_! Sí, él habla _español!_  His boyfriend just broke up with him a couple weeks ago- sad face! But don't worry, because ooh la _la_ , he's just recently kind of gained eyes on _another_ cute boy, so it's good that him and his boyfriend split when they did!

 

Ugh. Please. Give Jean a fucking break.

 

After a particularly rough time in Anatomy today (on a _Monday_ , no less), spent clenching his fists and suppressing growls as he saw Marco and some random fucking guy passing notes and giggling like goddamn seventh graders, he couldn't help but scream in frustration when he walked into his apartment.

 

Connie and Sasha were in front of his television, using his guitars for Guitar Hero. Connie was standing up and mashing the guitar's buttons with a thin layer of sweat on his forehead, and Sasha was sitting on the couch with the guitar strapped onto her, but ignoring the instrument in favor of being on her phone.

 

"What's up with you?" Sasha says halfheartedly toward Jean without looking up from her phone.

 

"I'm gonna blow my fucking brains out." Jean growls as he throws his backpack in the general direction of his bedroom and sets his laptop on the coffee table.

 

"Be sure I'm in your will." She says, and Jean notices that she's slowly scrolling down some article on a recent video game everyone’s obsessed with.

 

"Why are you blowing your brains out?" Connie asks, still slamming the guitar's buttons with his fingers and keeping a fairly impressive note streak.

 

"The guy that sits next to me in Anatomy is driving me crazy." He replies, treading to his fridge to grab out some old can of off brand soda.

 

"Ooh, what's he doin'? He doin' any weird shit? Like eatin' bugs or breathin' really hard only when he writes?" Sasha giggles.

 

Jean takes a drink from his can as he walks to the couch. The soda isn't the worst, but it certainly isn't the best. After he swallows, he plops onto the empty space next to Sasha. "No, he's not doing anything weird. In fact, he's being a regular, social human being. _Too_ regular and social. The guy never shuts the fuck up. He talks to _so many people_. He just laughs and talks with fucking _everyone_ in our class. I'll be minding my own business, setting up for another mundane class of note taking, unlocking my laptop and shit, when he walks in, some two or three people next to him, and he's just _gabbing off_ about how he loves that one girl's dress, or some dude's new haircut, or what fucking ever. He compliments fucking everything. He's so fucking obnoxious."

 

Sasha laughs, looking up from her phone to give Jean a mocking look. "Oh, you're mad because he's a decent human bein' with a successful social life." She rolls her eyes and looks back to her phone. "Yeah, I can see why _you_ would hate him."

 

"What the fuck is _that_ supposed to mean?" Asks Jean with a defensive tone as Connie finishes the song with a perfect streak.

 

"Fuck yes." Connie mutters under his breath, and strums the guitar to choose another song to play.

 

"It means: if you're so jealous, make more than two friends." Sasha scoffs, leaving Jean to sputter.

 

"I am not _jealous_ that he has a lot of friends. I am _mad_ because I just want to get on with that class, and I don't need him all up and smiling and laughing and shit when I'm just trying to take some goddamn notes."

 

"Oh, okay," Connie pipes up, still scrolling through songs. "You hate him because he's happy around you. God forbid someone actually enjoy something in your line of sight."

 

Sasha laughs, but Jean just growls. "Look," He glares at Connie's back, which he doesn't notice. "I know that it doesn't make sense. But seeing him talk to so many people and just laugh for them for like, _no reason_ is driving me nuts."

 

"'Laugh for them'? So you're jealous of him laughin' for _others_." Sasha snickers. "What if he was laughin' just for _you_?"

 

Connie joins her. "Ooh, Jean, do you _like_ someone?" He drags out the vowels of the sentence.

 

Jean's face starts to heat up. He hadn't even thought of that.

 

But nope. That isn't it. That can't be it. Because the thought of Marco's smile and laugh makes him want to vomit. Every time he's seen it, he's felt a compelling need to bang his head against a wall as many times as it takes for his skull to completely fall away.

 

But, then again, every time he's seen it, it was directed at someone else. How _would_ Marco look? If he just turned his head to Jean's direction to talk to Jean and look him in the eye and laugh for him with his smile and dimples and freckles-

 

Jesus, who's Jean kidding? Of course it isn't because he's into this guy. This is Connie and Sasha talking. They know next to nothing, and they are completely and utterly wrong. Like always.

 

"You guys are fucking idiots." He takes another sip of his soda.

 

"You know if he's a fag or not?" Sasha asks.

 

Jean sighs. "Yes, he is, but what does that-"

 

" _Ooh_ , Jean!" Connie coos sarcastically. "It's like it's meant to be."

 

Sasha copies him. " _Y_ _eah_ , Jean, it's meant to be. You guys are totally gonna fall in love and have millions of gaybies."

 

Jean growls. "If I hate the dude when he's happy with someone else, what kind of sense would it make if I ate it up when he was happy with me?"

 

"Well, you do have a tendency to be rather..." Sasha trails off, and hums in thought. "What's the word I'm lookin' for?"

 

"Possessive." Connie answers, well into another song.

 

"Yeah, that one. You tend to be possessive over stuff you like."

 

" _What_? No way. You guys are crazy. I'm totally not possessive."

 

"Remember tenth grade?" Connie says, kind of breathless from focusing so hard on the game. "When you liked that one girl?"

 

"Yeah." He sure does. He was so embarrassing. "What about her?"

 

"The first time you saw that guy you hate tell her that she should get a haircut, you complained about it for _weeks_. About how her 'boyfriend' was 'controlling' and 'a dick'. You would _not_ shut _up_ about how she shouldn't talk to him, and how you wanted to fight him. Yet you refused to admit that you were totally head over heels for her, and jealous of her 'boyfriend'."

 

"Oh, God." Jean groans.

 

"Remember who her 'boyfriend' turned out to be, Jean?" Connie snickers, and Jean wants nothing more than to punch off his fucking face.

 

"Yes, Connie. Her brother."

 

Sasha bursts out laughing, and Jean can feel his face reddening again. "Oh my gosh, _what_? How have you guys never told me that story before? Jean, you're so pathetic, oh my gosh."

 

"Shut the fuck up. Fucking dyke ass mark ass bitch." Jean mutters.

 

She laughs more at that and locks her phone. "I was thinkin' of that one time where you saw that one short, pretty blonde girl at the coffee shop. And you were trying to flirt with her, but then her girlfriend came up to her, and she kissed her cheek. I literally had to hold you back from trying to fight her. You would have lost, by the way. I can guarantee that."

 

Jean sighs again.

 

"Also when we saw that cat we thought was a stray, and we started, like, cooing and petting it, but then its owner came up and thanked you for finding his cat. You almost started yelling at the guy." Connie adds as he finishes another song.

 

" _Okay_." Jean snaps. "I get it. But this time is totally different. I do _not_ like the guy."

 

" _Sure_." Sasha says sarcastically. "And my name is Cynthia. My hair is bleach blonde and I wanna date boys."

 

"Fuck you." Jean grumbles, and takes another sip of his soda.

* * *

 

Eren's going to make himself bald by the end of this year. He knows he will. By New Year's, all of his hair will be under his fingernails if he doesn't stop grabbing his hair and just asks her out. He's killing himself here. Every time he looks at her, every time he hears a word come out of her mouth, he just falls more and more for her. She's so beautiful; with her smooth skin and her gentle smile and her dainty fingers and her strangely nice eyebrows.

 

He has the chance to be in a relationship with her. He has the thumb of his right hand above the keyboard. If he just puts his thumb down, the message can go to her. He can ask her out if he just _presses down his goddamn thumb_.

 

Eren groans. "I can't do this, Mikasa." He untangles his left hand from his hair and lets his head fall onto her shoulder next to him on the couch in front of the turned off television.

 

"Hm?" Mikasa hums, looking from her magazine to Eren as best as her vision will allow.

 

"I can't do it. I can't ask out Mina." He says, face squished against his sister.

 

Mikasa lets her hands and magazine fall onto her lap. "Why's that?"

 

"I just can't." He whines.

 

"Why not? Just ask her to a restaurant with you."

 

"It doesn't work like that."

 

"Why not?"

 

"Because."

 

"Does this have anything to do with... _him_?" She asks, hesitant. "I know you don’t like hearing his name, and you don’t like talking about him, but if-"

 

Eren sighs. "Miks, that was _three years_ ago."

 

"That doesn't mean you have to be alright with it. You still don’t even say his name when y-"

 

"It happened, and I'm fine. I had to get over it some time. The name is just… I don’t know, I’m just a uncomfortable saying it." He stares at his phone screen that's long since gone dark, and has to wonder if what he’s saying about _him_ is true. "And it's nothing to do with him,” Is that a lie? “I just. I'm so nervous. Because she's... she's her!"

 

"Why exactly does that make it worse?"

 

"Well, because! She's totally out of my league! She's so pretty! She has those cute little pigtails all the time, and the way her eyes scrunch up when she smiles is so adorable, and her teeth are so white. How are her teeth so white? She's like. Perfect. She's a goddamn porcelain doll, and here I am, with ripped jeans and messy hair and I can't even remember the last time I brushed my teeth. What if I ask her out, and she like- like totally laughs in my face or something? Like she's all like 'haha fuckin' idiot you know I would never touch you with an eight foot stick nasty ass crusty ass little rat lookin' ass bitch'?"

 

Mikasa chuckles. "Does that really sound anything like Mina?"

 

"No, but anything is possible, Miks."

 

Mikasa lays her head on his. "The worst she can do is say no. And even then, she'll still be your friend. Mina is very sweet and caring, and you deserve to give yourself a chance, because I'm sure she will."

 

" _No_." He drags out the vowel. "Stop being nice and right and the perfect sister. Let me wallow in self pity and hate myself."

 

"Come on." She nudges against him. "Do it. Ask her out."

 

He's quiet, and stares down at the reflection of himself in the darkness of his phone. If he does, she will either say yes or say no. If she says yes; great! If she says no, there are so many things she could do to ruin Eren's life. She could ridicule him, be disgusted by him, never talk to him. She could list each and every reason as to why he's the worst, crustiest human being on the planet. She could say 'your hair is greasy like all the time' or 'your teeth are way too yellow' or 'you haven't dated a girl in like six years' or…

 

"What if she says no because I'm..." He trails off and purses his lips. “Y’know. Mexican?” He asks quieter, and he realizes it was the wrong question by how fast Mikasa turned to look at him.

 

" _What_?" Mikasa says, and moves her head and body to look him in the eye. "Eren. What on Earth made you say that?"

 

"Well, I mean-" He can't hold eye contact. "It's happened before-"

 

"With _one_ person." Mikasa interrupts. "And he was a terrible person. And a high schooler. And white. Mina isn't even white, Eren." She grabs his hand and squeezes it lightly. "Mina is a nice girl who I guarantee does not take things like race into consideration. Don't let people like whatever his name was ruin your impression of others." She lets go of his hand. "And you're friends with Mina. You already know she cares about you."

 

"But, I mean- it's just-" He huffs. "I don't know, I'm just- you never know, y'know? You know what it's like, don't you?"

 

Mikasa sighs. She looks at him with a melting pot of care and empathy. Of course she does. Eren _knows_ she does. "Mina isn’t like that. Don't underestimate her, Eren. And stop making excuses."

 

He looks at his phone a little bit before speaking again. "I'll text her tomorrow."

 

"Don't lie to me. We both know that if you try to put it off, you won't do it. And if _you_ won't do it..." She trails off, and when he looks up at her expectantly, she reaches her hand to Eren and grabs his phone from his hands. He hardly even knows it until she's halfway down the hallway towards the bathroom.

 

" _Hey_!" Eren yells, and runs to the bathroom door a second too late. " _Mikasa_!"

* * *

 

Sasha hardly thinks hard about anything, but as she's walking to her student dorm from Jean's apartment on the cusp of nine at night, she can't help it.

 

Jean's being really weird about that guy that sits next to him in his anatomy class. Why is Jean getting upset at the guy for enjoying other people? It makes no sense. She gets it's probably some sort of personality thing, with reasoning buried somewhere in his fucked up head, but it's a little messed up for him to be hating on the guy so much even though he's done nothing wrong. Something about the whole situation is just _off_.

 

It sure was funny to watch him flounder when she and Connie joked about him liking the guy, though.

 

She looks up from the sidewalk she's on to the sky. There are only a few lights in the sky, and half of them are planes. But it's like that every night. It's nothing like Texas. Why, where she's from, there are hundreds of stars in the sky every night. They were always there for her. That's what she likes about stars. They're always there, not going anywhere, even if you're gay. Well, except for here, apparently. But that's okay. Now that she has _people_ that are there for her, she doesn't need stars that much anymore. She's glad she isn't in Texas anymore.

 

She trips over something while looking up at the smoggy, almost starless sky.

 

To put it simply, she eats shit.

 

"Fuck!" She screams as she lands on her palms, followed by her forehead. She can't find it in herself to get up for a while.

 

"I'm so sorry, I didn't see you." She hears a calm, smooth voice behind her. "Do you need help getting up?"

 

"Nah, I'm good." She begins to raise herself on her hands, and hisses upon realizing they're raw from the cement. "All good over here in Sasha Town."

 

Once she's standing fully, she looks down at her palms to see blood. Slim fingers come to cup the bottom of her chubby hands gently, and looking up at the owner of said hands almost trips her all over again.

 

The woman is beautiful. She's a little sweaty, and in a gym outfit, but her hair is dark and soft looking, her lips are plump, and her muscles are _huge_.

 

"It doesn't look like things are good in 'Sasha Town'." The woman says. She looks up to Sasha's face, and her eyes get even wider. "Oh, my."

 

Sasha panics. Oh gosh, does this woman think Sasha is ugly? "What?"

 

"You..." Her brows furrow. "Does that hurt?"

 

No, it doesn't hurt to be ugly!

 

"Does what hurt?" Sasha asks, having to try hard to keep her voice from becoming offended. She only just now realizes that the woman hasn't moved her hands from Sasha's.

 

"Your forehead."

 

"My forehead?" Sasha echoes. She- regretfully- pulls a hand away from the woman's to touch her forehead, and hisses at the pain. She realizes quickly that her fingers are wet once they touch her head. When she pulls them back down to look at them, they're covered in a light coat of red. "Oh, shit."

 

"Here, my apartment is just a block away, I'll get you cleaned up." She moves to stand next to Sasha, with her hands on each of Sasha's shoulders.

 

"Wow, take me to dinner first." Sasha chuckles weakly.

 

Oh my gosh. She did not just fucking say that. Why does she have no filter? Isn't there supposed to be some sort of filter stopping stupid thoughts from actually leaving the mind? Where is hers?

 

Before she has a chance to apologize for what she said to the girl that just wants to help her bleeding face, the girl chuckles. She actually chuckles. The sound is beautiful.

 

They walk in silence for a bit. Sasha recognizes the fact that walking somewhere with a stranger at nine at night in a currently empty college campus park probably isn't the best idea, but hey, she's bleeding, the stranger is hot, and if she ends up being murdered, she doesn't want to have to take that upcoming Stats test anyways.

 

"So, I didn't catch your name." Sasha speaks up, and looks to the woman next to her. She has a good two inches on Sasha, and her face is so stoic and terrifying. It's so hot.

 

"Mikasa." She replies. It's short, but not as cold as someone would expect her to speak.

 

"Pretty name." Sasha says, and starts to test the waters. Maybe she should wait until _after_ someone tends to her wounds, but she's never been the smartest. "For a very pretty girl."

 

Mikasa smiles, but doesn't look over to Sasha. "You're not so bad yourself."

 

"Why thank you." Sasha blushes. She's just glad Mikasa isn't looking. "So what are you doin' out here so late? Dangerous for a pretty girl like you to be walkin' around here this time of night."

 

Mikasa looks over to her and cocks an eyebrow. She gestures to her muscles with her eyes as best she can. "It is?"

 

"Fair 'nough." Sasha says.

 

She looks back in front of her. "I'm out on a run. I like running at night. There's not a lot of people in the way, the air is cooler, and it's quieter."

 

"That's true." Sasha hums. "But how'd exactly you bump into me? Didn't you see me?"

 

"Didn't _you_ see _me_?"

 

"No, I was lookin' at the sky. What's your excuse?"

 

"I was looking at the ground."

 

"Lookin' like we're both a little dumb then, huh?"

 

Mikasa smiles.

 

"It's this building right here." She says, gesturing with her head in front of them. Sasha looks to see a rather nice- much nicer than Jean's- apartment building.

 

"Nice buildin'. A lot better than some other ones I seen."

 

"It's really not the greatest. Are you talking about the one on the corner of Main and 3rd? Because that place is a piece of shit."

 

Sasha laughs. "Yeah, my friend lives there."

 

"Really?" She says and begins to walk into the building. Sasha follows. "What's their name?"

 

"His name's Jean. He's a pretty big douche. Total hipster- two color hair and crazy sharp nose. Kinda ugly if you look at him too long."

 

She chuckles. "Wow, small world."

 

"Oh, you know him?" Sasha asks, and Mikasa nods as the two are walking up the stairs to one of the upper floors. "I'm so sorry."

 

Mikasa chuckles again. "Me too."

 

"How do you know him?"

 

"Him and my brother have some sort of feud going on. They've hated each other since high school."

 

"Really!" It comes out as more of a statement than a question. "How come?"

 

"In our sophomore year, Jean liked me a big deal, and thought my brother was my boyfriend. For some reason, even after Jean found out he wasn't my boyfriend, they still disliked each other."

 

Sasha has to keep herself from stopping in her tracks, and her mouth falls open. "No way. That was you?"

 

Mikasa looks behind her from a couple steps up. "What, you've heard about that?"

 

"Yeah, I just found out about it today."

 

Mikasa looks back up ahead of her, and begins walking down the hall of the next floor.

 

"Well," Sasha speaks up, albeit a little nervous. "I definitely can see why he got so jealous of your brother."

 

Mikasa glances over her shoulder to flash Sasha a slight smile.

 

"You're a flatterer, aren't you?"

 

"Only to you, darlin'." Sasha throws her a wink before she turns around with a chuckle. They reach Mikasa's door, and she pulls out her keys. With a jiggle, Mikasa opens the door and walks in, Sasha right behind her.

 

"Mi casa es su casa." Mikasa says as she tosses her keys lightly in the key dish by the door.

 

Sasha's mouth drops open with a smile. That is so cute.

 

"Oh my gosh." She says, breathlessly, trying not to laugh.

 

Mikasa smiles at her. "Close the door for me?"

 

"'Course, dear." With each statement she gives, she gets more confident. Mikasa isn't looking uncomfortable. That's a good place to be at.

 

Sasha turns around and closes the front door, and when she turns around, Mikasa is leaning against the wall. Sasha notices that she slowly moves her eyes upward to Sasha's face.

 

Oh my gosh. Why was Mikasa looking down?

 

 _Oh my gosh_.

 

They trade smiles. "Follow me. We have a first aid kit in the bathroom."

 

In the bathroom, Mikasa has her sit on the closed toilet lid as she grabs the first aid kit from a cabinet below the sink. Sasha decides to return the favor of staring at her ass.

 

She knows Mikasa notices when she turns around, because she gives her a smile in return.

 

She kneels down in front of Sasha's legs to be level height with her (now isn't that a pretty picture), and grabs out the alcohol to spread some on a cotton pad. Sasha holds out her hands, and Mikasa cups the left one.

 

"This'll sting a little." Mikasa says, and before Sasha can answer, she dabs the pad lightly on the scrape.

 

Sasha deserves several awards for not screaming. Or even hissing. The most is just teary eyes, which is absolutely one of the most hardcore accomplishments of Sasha's entire life.

 

When Mikasa is finished dabbing all of Sasha's scrapes, she fishes large bandages out of kit to cover up the wounds. Including the one on her forehead. Which Sasha is sure must make her look ridiculous, but she doesn't mind.

 

"All good in 'Sasha Town'." Mikasa looks up at Sasha's eyes after she lays down the last bandage on her right hand with a smile.

 

Sasha's not able to get a word in, because Mikasa leans forward to trap Sasha's lips with her own. And Sasha sure as hell doesn't complain. She just moves her lips along Mikasa's, and it doesn't take long for the kiss to go from somewhat gentle to bruising, each girl pushing against each other, sliding tongues and biting lips and hardly separating.

 

She moves her hands to Mikasa's hair, fingers feeling and sliding through it. It's about as soft as it looks. Mikasa places her hands on Sasha's back, and moves her hands slowly up and down, fingernails raking against her clothes.

 

Sasha, painfully, pulls slightly away from Mikasa to speak. "Why, that certainly didn't take much."

 

"You're too smooth for me to resist." She responds, slightly hoarse. "You're just such a charmer."

 

"You sure this is okay? We literally just met, darlin'."

 

"I'm the one who kissed you."

 

Sasha smiles. "Fair 'nough."

 

Sasha presses their lips together again, slightly rough. One of her hands goes to the base of Mikasa's skull, and Mikasa places her hands on Sasha's hips.

 

They're interrupted by the front door opening, and the lyrics of [ a shitty rap song ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j4L2vmBC3xA) in an off tune voice. Sasha's eyes widen and she gently pushes away from Mikasa. Mikasa bites her lip and looks out of the open door of the bathroom down the hall.

 

"You live with someone?" Sasha whispers, trying to keep her hint of panic out of her voice.

 

"Eren, my brother." She whispers back, much calmer.

 

"In the middle of the party bitch get offa me." Eren is singing in a goofy voice while the clattering of placing his stuff down sounds in Sasha's ears. "Bluh blah blah bluh blah bluh bluh broccoli."

 

"Eren." Mikasa says, loud enough for him to hear.

 

"That's me!" He yells, throwing his keys into the key dish like a basketball.

 

"Did you go to the store like I told you to?"

 

"Oh, shit, did you tell me that?" Eren sighs. "Alright. I'll bounce. Be back in a second. What do we need?"

 

"We need milk." Mikasa says as she hears the front door open.

 

"Yeet." Eren replies. "And I'm still pissed about the Mina thing! She hasn't responded!" As soon as she hears the door close, Sasha doesn't waste any time in going back to Mikasa's mouth.

 

"Did you really tell him that before?" Sasha says against Mikasa's lips.

 

"Nope." And she doesn't let Sasha talk much after that.

 

She sucks on Sasha's bottom lip, and slides their tongues together again. Sasha has to wonder how Mikasa is such a good fucking kisser.

 

Mikasa moves her hands behind Sasha's back, and reaches for the hem of her shirt.

 

"This okay?" Mikasa asks against Sasha's lips, eliciting a breathless laugh.

 

"You kiddin'? This is so much more than okay."

* * *

 

Ymir doesn't cry. She doesn't fucking cry. That's not how it fucking works. She's witty, an asshole, fucking terrible and mean and funny- _never_ fucking cries.

 

But here she is, tears covering her hands as she sits and thinks of José with her head buried in her arms and her shoulders shaking.

 

"Honey, did you record my show like I asked?" Christa asks as she walks in the house after a day of work. She steps in farther after closing the door, and turns around to the couch to see Ymir, head in her hands, fists clenched. Christa gasps, and drops all of her stuff to rush to Ymir's side. "Ymir, what's wrong? What happened?"

 

Ymir looks up at her with tears in her eyes. She softens once she locks eyes with Christa, but when she looks away, she growls and throws her phone on the floor, which is cushioned by the carpet.

 

"My uncle's in a coma." She chokes out. "My uncle's in a fucking coma."

 

"José?" Christa sounds like her throat is closing up, and her eyes are watering.

 

"Yes." Her voice is weak and cracks, and tears are falling down her face. "The one who fucking raised me."

 

"Oh, sweetie." Christa says softly, and wraps her arms around Ymir, allowing Ymir to bury herself in Christa's chest and choke out a singular sob. "What happened?"

 

"He got pulled over by a cop." Her voice is slightly muffled by Christa's torso. "And- and the cop says it was because of speeding, but José _never_ speeds." Ymir yanks away from Christa to put her hands on her shoulders. Her face is composed of hurt and anger. "He never speeds, Christa. He's never sped once in his _life_."

 

Christa cups her hands on Ymir's cheeks. "I know he doesn't speed."

 

"He doesn't!" Ymir yells, and her tears aren't stopping, but she's looking angrier by the second. "He yells at me every time I speed- even if it's just five above!"

 

"What else, honey?" Christa whispers as she swipes away some of Ymir's tears with her thumbs. "What happened?"

 

"The cop-" She breathes hard out of her nose a couple times before speaking again.

 

"He made him get out. He made José get out of his car. Said he was saying shit to him." Ymir scoffs as best as she can through her tears. "Who the fuck is he trying to fool? José is the literal last person to ever be mean to a cop." Ymir's lip quivers. "You know what happened next? The cop said he started running. José. They're trying to say he ran away for no reason. He wouldn't even run away if there _was_ a reason!" Ymir's face is contorted into full pain, lips down turned. "The cop said that he started chasing him. And that José turned around and tried grabbing at him. Are you fucking _kidding_ me?" She starts to sob again, but this time more than once.

 

"What else, baby?" Christa wipes more tears from Ymir's face.

 

"The cop shot him!" Ymir screeches. "Shot him _eleven times_!"

 

Christa's eyes grow wide and her jaw falls slightly open.

 

"Do you think the press will find out? The public?"

 

"I- I don't know. I hope so. He was shot ten times on his body- and- and once in his head. It didn't kill him, but-" Ymir hugs Christa again. "God, I don't know if he'll live, Christa. I don't know." She fists her hands in the back of Christa's shirt so hard her fingers begin to hurt. "What if he doesn't?"

 

"Ymir, no. Don't say that." Christa coos lovingly in Ymir's ear. "You know José is strong. He loves you, and he loves Marco, and he would never leave you two. Not any time soon."

 

"Oh, God." Ymir breathes. "I didn't even think about Marco."

 

"Does he know?" Christa is softly running her hands up and down Ymir's back.

 

"I don't think so. I think the hospital only called me."

 

"You should text him and invite him over to tell him tomorrow."

 

Ymir's quiet for a while before she speaks up.

 

If _Ymir_ is this hurt... Marco will be in shambles. After all of those years with both of them living with José... And Marco gets much more attached than Ymir, much more easily.

 

"Imagine how hurt he'll be, Christa."

 

"I know, honey. I know. But he's your cousin. He deserves to know."

 

Ymir sighs. "You're right. I'll text him."

 

She gets up to pick her phone up off of the floor, and she's relieved to see that it isn't damaged.

 

**oye. visitarme mañana. tenemos que hablar de josé**

-You [21:35]

 

It doesn't take long for him to respond, even though Ymir knows for a fact that he's in class right now.

 

**Ahaha what did he do this time :)**

-Bruja Con Pecas [21:37]

 

**solo hazlo, marco**

-You [21:37]

 

**Is something wrong? You just called me Marco instead of witch :(**

-Bruja Con Pecas [21:38]

 

**solo sigue trabajando y visitarme mañana**

-You [21:38]

 

**I AM working. Ymir what's wrong what's going on? You're starting to worry me**

-Bruja Con Pecas [21:39]

 

Ymir just doesn't answer. She locks her phone and halfheartedly tosses it on the couch next to her.

 

"I'll take the day off tomorrow to be here with you when you tell him, if you want, baby." Christa says, and takes hold of Ymir's hand. Ymir looks over to her and gives a tender smile.

 

"No. You should go to work. And I should too. Don't take off the day just because of me."

 

"I would do anything for you, honey." Christa kisses Ymir's cheek.

* * *

 

Connie's laying in bed, eyes blurry and constantly yawning, but unable to sleep. He just continues to text Jean. Not like he's got much better things to do. He's done with all of his work, he has no upcoming tests to study for, and for whatever reason, Sasha isn't responding to his texts, even though she's always up at this time and she's never away from her phone.

 

**theres nothing wrong with being single**

-Horse [22:12]

 

**wtf balls to that. you're just saying that because you don't wanna admit you're lonely. i on the other hand fully accept that i'm lonely as shit and just want a fucking boyfriend**

-You [22:12]

 

**then just go on grindr**

-Horse [22:12]

 

Connie's face scrunches up. What the hell? Had he never fucking used Grindr before? It's good for a quick fuck, that's for sure, but Connie doesn't _just_ want a one night stand. He wants to go on dates and hold hands and goof around with someone, go to stores and pull pranks on people there, and even pull pranks on friends (Sasha especially). How the hell would Grindr help with that?

 

It wouldn't. That's how.

 

**man ur half fag u know that shit don’t get u a relationship it gets u some guy sending five baskillion pictures of his dingalong and ik that u know this for a fact bc i've seen u on it**

-You [22:13]

 

**1) never fucking say dingalong ever again, 2) then try tinder or something just stop bitching to me**

-Horse [22:14]

 

**shut up you know this is the most attention you've gotten since 1776**

-You [22:14]

 

**im not dealing with this abuse u can go ahead and stay up alone for 421356134 hours bye**

-Horse [22:14]

 

**NOOOOOOOOOOO**

-You [22:15]

 

**ughhhhh boooo you're a faggot**

-You [22:15]

 

**only half**

-Horse [22:16]

 

Connie opts on not responding, and just locks his phone to stare up at the ceiling.

 

Stupid Jean. Piece of shit, abandoning him like this. Sasha too. Where the fuck even _is_ Sasha? As if she does anything important ever. She's always either alone or with Connie. So where is she?

 

He can't find it in him to text her again, or try calling her. Maybe he _should_ go on Grindr, and just fuck someone. It certainly wouldn't cure his loneliness, but maybe it would make him feel better. Or he could try Tinder. But Tinder fucking sucks. Maybe he could sign up for Christian Mingle and catfish cute guys, pretending he's a girl.

 

Actually, that's not the worst idea he's had.

* * *

 

"Marco, honey, what's wrong? You've been a little off lately." Christa coos, rubbing Marco's back in her and Ymir's house. It's morning, eight o'clock, and Marco knocking on their door had woken Christa up. He had originally come to ask Ymir about José, but upon finding out Ymir was still asleep, Marco just shrugged it off uncharacteristically instead of waking her up. He's acting a bit strange. In fact, he has been for the past few days. He knows Christa has noticed, but he knows Christa must think it's because of the breakup.

 

"Well, I..." He trails off, unsure of how to word this. "Well, there's this guy-"

 

Christa gasps and smiles. "Already? Oh, that's great, honey!"

 

"No, not... That's not... It's nothing to do with romance. We aren't dating." Marco sighs. "The guy _hates_ me."

 

She furrows her brows, and looks almost offended. "What? I doubt that's even possible, sweetie. You're the nicest person ever!"

 

"No way," Marco smiles. "That title totally goes to you." He shoulders against her softly, and she giggles. "But no, really. He sits to my right in Anatomy, and everytime I walk in, he gets this scowl on his face, and glares at me and whoever I'm talking to. He literally glares at me every day, and it's been that way ever since the first day of school. Yesterday, I think he was about to burst when I was exchanging notes with Thomas. And he really gets mad whenever I talk about boys with my friends, or speak in Spanish. I'm half expecting him to call me 'beaner' or 'faggot' or something." He chuckles humorlessly, to hide the hurt and fear.

 

Christa gasps again, but this time in concern and sympathy. "Honey, no! Don't say things like that, Marco. It's not like that here. This is a different place. No one is like that here!"

 

He rubs the back of his neck. "I don't know, Christa. I mean... you should see the way he looks at me. Especially when I speak Spanish or talk about my ex or about the cute boy I kinda like."

 

"Well, you know what? Screw him then." Marco's kind of shocked that Christa said "screw" in reference to anything other than metal. "Let's change the subject, and not think about that meanie pants. What cute boy do you have goggles on?"

 

Marco's silent, and he bites his lip while he looks at Christa with embarrassment all over his face.

 

"Well, I mean..." He starts quietly after a bit of silence. "It may or may not be him."

 

Christa gapes. "Marco, _seriously_ ?" He nods shyly. "Oh my goodness, you are a complete masochist! What if he _does_ turn out to be a racist, or a homophobe? I mean- I still don't think he is- but either way, he sure is a jerk! Marco, this is _so_ not a good idea."

 

"I know." He groans. "But I can't help it. You should see how pretty he is, Christa. His nose is so sharp, and- and his hair is so soft looking and- oh, his eyes are so pretty, even when they're glaring at me."

 

"Well," Christa huffs, and gets a look on her face that's about as angry as it's going to get. "Get over it! He's not worth your time if he doesn't appreciate how nice and handsome and sweet you are."

 

He buries his head in his hands with a hearty sigh.

 

"Well, you know what this means, don't you?" She says assertively, and Marco almost doesn't believe that it was her voice.

 

"No..." He says, lifting his head to look at her.

 

"You have to confront him." She crosses her arms.

 

" _What_?!" He squeaks. "No way!"

 

" _Yes_ way! You've totally got to call him out for being a butt. Ask what you did wrong. Maybe there's some sort of misunderstanding. And if you don't do it, _I_ will. And that's a promise, mister."

 

He groans. This is gonna suck.

* * *

 

Mina looks down at her phone. She hasn't checked it since yesterday before work.

 

She wasn't really expecting any new notifications. Maybe a couple of likes on Instagram, or a retweet, or something small like that, but not this. She wasn't expecting a message at all, let alone one from _Eren_. Or... Mikasa? Which would it count as?

 

She stares at the message, buried under her covers so long as she's able to before having to leave for work.

 

**Hi, Mina. It's Mikasa. Eren wants to be in a relationship with you.**

-Eren ❤️ [Yesterday]

 

What should she say back? "I've been waiting for you to say this since I looked at your eyes and heard you say my name"?

 

She needs to consider this. _Really consider_ what she's being told here.

 

One: Mikasa said this. _Why_? She rules out it being a prank; Mikasa would literally never prank anyone in her life. So it's probably truth. But that doesn't explain as to why Mikasa told her instead of Eren.

 

Two: why on Earth does he want to be in a relationship with her? She's nothing great and extraordinary- not like Eren. Eren is so brash and bold and confident- and his eyes are _so_ pretty- and what does Mina have rooting for her? OCD and a fake vagina?

 

Oh yeah. Eren doesn't know about those.

 

Yeah. _That's_ why he doesn't mind being in a relationship with her. Because he doesn't know that she's some freak.

 

She should tell him. She has to tell him. She can't just leave him in the dark like that. Even if it means losing him as a friend. He deserves to know.

 

 **Well, I would really like to be too.** **I have to tell him a couple things first, though... He might be in over his head here haha, just want to give him a little info**

-You [8:34]

 

She breathes a long puff of air heavily out of her mouth after sending it. She looks over it a couple times before moving herself out of her blankets and treading to the kitchen to grab a bowl of cereal.

* * *

 

Mikasa wakes up to a rather loud "Mikasa holy shit!" and Eren busting into her room.

 

She rubs her eyes blearily before sitting up to look at Eren. She forgets she's naked until she lays eyes on him. The covers fall off of her bare chest to pool in her lap, eliciting a loud scream from Eren and him covering his eyes.

 

"What the fuck?! What the fuck?! _What the fuck_?!"

 

Mikasa just tiredly grabs a hold of the blankets and covers her chest with them.

 

"I'm decent." She says after, and Eren uncovers his eyes hesitantly with a cringe.

 

"Why. _Why_ are you naked?"

 

"Oh yeah." Mikasa remembers Sasha, and looks next to her on the bed, only to find empty blankets. Usually Mikasa doesn't fall asleep after sex, but with a tongue like Sasha's being particularly generous to her six times in almost a row, she had the energy completely sucked out of her. As did Sasha after Mikasa was done with her. "Where is she?" She asks more to herself than to Eren.

 

Eren's mouth falls open. "Wh- Wha- Where-" He recoils. "Was someone. _Over_ last night?"

 

"Yes. I'm surprised you didn't hear her. She's very loud."

 

"Oh my God!" He shrieks, cringing and tensing his body. "Okay- okay-" He loosens up a bit. "I don't want to know. I came in here for a reason." He walks over to Mikasa's bed, and looks like he's about to sit down, before scrunching his nose and choosing otherwise. Instead, he stands next to the side of the bed Mikasa is on and unlocks his phone. It's already up to his Messages. "Look!"

 

She leans forward a bit to look at the messages, her eyes still a little blurry from just waking up.

 

 **Well, I would really like to be too.** **I have to tell him a couple things first, though... He might be in over his head here haha, just want to give him a little info**

-Mina ❤️ [8:34]

 

Mikasa looks up to Eren's beaming face after reading the message. His smile is wide and his teeth are off white and his eyes are sparkling.

 

"Congratulations." Mikasa says sincerely. Good for him.

 

Eren squeaks. "Thanks!"

 

"What do you think she wants to tell you?"

 

That tones him down a bit. He begins to look concerned. "I don't know. I hope it's nothing bad, like she's some serial killer."

 

Mikasa chuckles. "Yeah, I doubt that."

 

Eren smiles big again. "What do you think I should say back?"

 

Mikasa hums before answering. "Maybe ask when to meet up?"

 

"Good idea!" He chirps. He types on his phone for a bit before showing it to Mikasa again. "How's this?"

 

 **Hey sorry about that its Eren again!** **When do you wanna meet up I'm free whenever**

 

Mikasa presses the send button for him, yanking out another scream from him. He brings his phone closer to him and looks at the screen with panic.

 

"What'd you do that for?!"

 

"I didn't want you to chicken out from sending it."

 

He looks like he's about to say something else before his eyes widen and he stares at his phone. "She's typing. Oh my God, that was so fast." They sit in silence for a bit before he begins to smile at his screen again.

 

"What did she say?" Mikasa asks, and is immediately greeted with his phone's screen again.

 

**Feel free to meet me at work today. My boss will be okay if I chat with you. You can wait until I get off, if you like. I get off at noon. I can't wait to see you ;)**

-Mina ❤️ [8:41]

 

"Wow." Mikasa looks up at Eren again, who is still smiling wide.

 

" _Look at that fucking winking face_ . I have to go _now_ . I have to go see her _now_."

 

Before Mikasa is able to tell him that he'll have to wait three hours before actually being able to have an intimate talk with her, he's leaving her room and the apartment.

 

She rubs her eyes again, letting the covers fall now that Eren isn't here. She scans her gaze around her bed for a second time, wondering why Sasha left. Mikasa doesn't have much experience with one night stands, but with what she's seeing, she's pretty sure this is one. But it's okay. Mikasa doesn't mind, if it's what Sasha wanted. She wishes she could have talked to her more, though. Sasha was her type. Chubby, dimples, sense of humor, cute accent. And a very, very blessed mouth.

 

But oh well. That's just how it goes sometimes. She raises out of her blankets, standing up to stretch and pop her shoulders. She looks to her dresser to grab some underwear, and notices a note on the top of it. She walks over to it and picks it up.

 

_Hope there can be more to this. Give me a call ;)_

_-Sasha, 8185551235 <3 _

 

Mikasa smiles. Maybe she'll get what she wants after all. She'll conjure up a message after she gets dressed. And washes her sheets.

* * *

 

Christa wakes up from her power nap after seeing Marco with Ymir's arms wrapped around her waist. She doesn't want to move; not when she’s wrapped up so sweetly and comfortably in Ymir's long, brown arms. She looks down to Ymir's hands, seeing the light freckles smattering the backs, and the callouses forming on her palms. Christa wishes Ymir would stop that construction side job and just focus on school. It's taking a toll on her physically.

 

She looks to her night stand to read the alarm clock, and the blaring red numbers yell '8:49 AM'. She sighs, knowing she has to be at the office in forty minutes, and gets up, trying not to disturb Ymir.

 

Ymir has been so down since when Christa came home last night because of what happened to José. It hurts her so much to see Ymir like this, to see her freckled cheeks covered in tears, and to hear Ymir curse and sob in Spanish when she thinks Christa can't hear her. Christa wishes she knew Spanish just so she could comfort her girlfriend in the language she's most used to.

 

Christa kisses Ymir's sleeping forehead before going to the kitchen. She turns on the television in the living room with the remote in the kitchen before beginning the coffee, but when she takes one glance at the news channel the television was stuck on, she stops everything.

 

There's a picture of José. It's kind of blurry, and Christa realizes that it's because he's in the background of a photo. He wasn't paying attention to the camera, and has a scowl on his face. Christa recognizes the picture. It was taken at Ymir's birthday party a couple months ago. Christa knows that both her and Ymir are in it- part of the foreground. They were two of the few that were posing for it. But they're cropped out. Everyone but him is cropped out. Christa knows why José is scowling in that picture. Marco had just beat him at Go Fish at the dining table, and right before he gave Marco a noogie, he jokingly scowled at him. Which just happened to be when the picture was taken. The fact that the news used that picture of him instead of his high definition work I.D. picture, or the recent sharp picture of him that he made his profile picture on Facebook, or the crystal clear one where he's smiling wide next to Marco on Marco's first day of college, made her stomach churn. They purposefully chose a picture where he didn't have a smile, even if it meant compromising the photo quality.

 

"-Ays ago, a man named José Bodt was shot eleven times by a police officer claiming self defense. He is currently alive, but in a coma in St. Berkland's Hospital, where he is being tended to. The police officer claims that Bodt had tried to reach for him after at first running away from the officer when he was pulled over for speeding, but as this issue gains more coverage, many protesters are claiming this is untrue due to his behavior on social media."

 

A different picture comes up, and the speaking of the news anchor is drowned out as Christa stares at it. It's of him and Ymir dressed in typical “downtown-gangster” style clothes, with baggy jeans and bandanas. It was his, Ymir's, and Marco's matching costumes for Halloween last year. Ymir and José have pretend scowls on their faces, but Marco is smiling and laughing in that picture. He's what made it obvious that this was a pretend picture, because he's holding three trick or treating Jack O'Lanterns. Christa can't help but notice that they cropped Marco out of the picture. In that picture, it was just José and Ymir pretending to be stereotypical Mexican gangsters in the dim lighting of the front of José's house at night. The candy bowl on his porch was also cropped out.

 

Christa took that picture.

 

She shuts off the television quicker than anything she's ever done. She has goosebumps and is shivering and nauseous, head spinning with thoughts of why the news would ever pick those pictures.

 

But then she remembers why.

 

Because a cop shot him. Because he's Mexican.

* * *

 

Connie checks his watch. It's 8:54. He wonders if he can kill himself in six minutes, just so he doesn't have to sit through another period of the hell called Geography.

 

Connie yawns, and remembers with a certain aspect of gratefulness what's in his backpack. He grabs the Monster, and pops it open after taking the lid off of his almost empty Starbucks cup on his desk. He pours in about half of the can, and places it on the desk before pulling out an old 5-hour Energy and pouring some of that in too. He grimaces when he's putting the lid of the take out coffee cup back on, his gratefulness fading and being replaced with fear.

 

"Here's to hoping this doesn't put me in a coma." Connie says to himself, cup in hand, about to take a sip. He hears a short, high pitched, snorting laugh after he says that, though.

 

He looks to his left, where the sound came from, to see a small boy with a bit of a bowl cut and big blue eyes.

 

Jesus, this guy's more of a twink than Connie is.

 

He blushes, and looks away from Connie. "Sorry."

 

Connie laughs. "Don't worry! It was adorable!"

 

Oh. He realizes what he just said. He hopes this guy doesn't take that the wrong way.

 

He just blushes more, and looks back to Connie, slightly curled into himself. "Uh, thanks?" He says with a smile.

 

Connie just beams at him before turning back to his drink. He's holding it in the air still, unsure of whether or not he actually wants to put this in his body.

 

"God, I don't want to be here." He mutters.

 

"Um," The boy on his left speaks up again, and Connie looks over to him. He didn't think that anyone could actually hear him when he spoke that quietly. "I- Uh, you can borrow my notes for the day, if you want. I can just give them to you tomorrow, so you can go home and rest some more."

 

Connie's mouth drops the fuck open. This kid. This fucking kid. He's offering a complete stranger that made him laugh once a whole day's worth of notes. What is he, some kind of saint?

 

"Dude. Bro. Broski. My man. My guy. My dude." Connie stutters in disbelief, and that elicits a giggle from the blond kid. "You're kidding."

 

"No." He says with a smile and pink cheeks. "I mean it. I'll let you borrow them so long as you don't drink that. That's probably dangerous."

 

"Can't argue with that." Connie shrugs. He checks the time. "Though if I'm gonna bounce, I gotta do it now, so I'm not here when teach comes in. But seriously. You. Are an angel." He begins to pack up. "I will throw this out, and thank you every day for saving my life." He gestures with the cup as he slings his backpack over the shoulder with the hand that isn't holding the devil's drink.

 

He hears the kid giggle again and squeak out a 'see you' as Connie weaves through the desks to walk down the staircase leading towards the door.

* * *

 

Oh yeah, of _course_ the world just _had_ to make Jean see him _outside_ of class now, too.

 

Jean just wanted a cup of coffee. He just wanted a cup of fucking coffee before his first class of the day. That's not too much to ask, is it?

 

Well, fuck, that's a real stupid question, because the void already answered him with a big fat 'YES'.

 

There he is, right at the counter, talking excitedly with the barista. Of course. The same way he talks to everyone, with that smile and those dimples and that voice. The barista, a gentle looking, black haired Asian girl, is agreeing just as excitedly with his every word, and chimes in every once in awhile. Jean can't help but glare from the door.

 

9:15 is _way_ too fucking early to be dealing with this. Every fucking minute of the day is too early to be dealing with this.

 

The two don't notice him as he just stands there in the doorway, frozen to the ground, fists clenched and seething. He's so wrapped up in anger, he almost doesn't hear the 'dude, move' come from the doorway behind his back. He mutters out a weak and still angry 'sorry' without looking behind him before walking to the line to stand behind that stupid freckled asshole.

 

He stands there for _so long_. Minutes that feel like fucking hours of them just trading idle chatter about mundane things that any normal person would think no one fucking cared about. Jean is about to clear his throat when the barista- Mina, if her name tag is anything to go by- glances towards Jean, and realizes he's standing there. Jean's face must be one of the angriest in the entire world, because the barista flushes and looks scared.

 

"Oh, I- I am so sorry sir, I didn't-" The barista stutters. "I didn't see you."

 

Marco turns his head, mild surprise on his face from Mina's words. When his eyes land on Jean, he looks even more shocked, and borders on afraid.

 

"It's fine." Jean says through gritted teeth. He may be angry and a huge fucking asshole, but he draws the line at being rude to retail workers.

 

"I'm sorry, too." Marco chokes out, and Jean looks to him from the barista.

 

Jean's world stops when he sees Marco smile at him. It's a nervous, guilty, and embarrassed smile, sure, but-

 

Marco's smile, even when as forced as it is right now, is stunning. His skin and lips are much tanner than Jean's (actually, Jean doesn't have that much lip anyway), with freckles around and even on them that Jean never would have noticed if Marco wasn't smiling _just for him_ , and his teeth are so straight and white and shiny, and his dimples are so deep, and so are his laugh lines, and his entire face just scrunches with his _fucking smile_.

 

Jean almost goes out of breath, and his mouth dries up.

 

"I'll get out of your hair. See you, Mina." He chuckles out nervously, humorlessly.

 

His laugh.

 

He scurries very fast out of the shop. Faster than what could ever be considered walking.

 

Jean doesn't believe that he's ordering a drink even as he's saying the name of what he likes after Marco's left and the barista asks what she can get him. Jean's thoroughly convinced that he isn't even in his body until he's sitting down waiting for his name to be called for his drink.

 

"Holy shit." He mutters to himself as quietly as he can.

 

What does this mean. How does he sort this out.

 

First thing's first: he needs to get real. Jean hates that smile. He hates when Marco smiles. A lot. All the time. He's never once seen Marco's smile and been endeared or felt butterflies or any of that cliché bullshit for when you like someone.

 

Except for just now.

 

Okay, Jean needs to analyze. What exactly went wrong here?

 

He saw Marco's smile, and fucking lost his shit. Alright, established. So why the fuck does he seem to hate his smile literally every other time ever?

 

And then he remembers Sasha's stupid, ugly Texas drawl making fun of him. 'What if he was laughin' just for you?'

 

Oh, no. Oh _fuck_  no. Jean would rather drive a hundred miles an hour off of a cliff leading into an active volcano than _ever_  admit that Connie and Sasha were anywhere _near_  correct on a situation. There has to be some other reason. There literally _has_  to be, because Connie and Sasha have never been right about anything in their goddamn lives. He's pissed they even gave him the ability to entertain that bullshit idea. 

 

Jean needs to think of what made this time different. He needs to think of all of the other times Marco's smiled.

 

Well shit. They've always been happy. Cheerful. Marco's _always_  happy. This is the first time Jean has ever seen him nervous, and guilty, and embarrassed. There! Turns out, it had nothing to do with Marco's smile or his laugh; it was because, for the first time in ever, Marco Bodt wasn't happy.

 

That has to be it. God, he hopes that's it.

 

"John?" A manly voice calls out from behind the counter, and Jean's eyes look up to a tall, handsome, muscular man with thick eyebrows and shocking eyes.

 

Jean doesn't even care that he said his name wrong. At least he gets to lay eyes on Captain America over here.

 

As Jean walks out, he sees Eren, stupid piece of shit ocean-eyed asshole, flirting with Mina. Yeah, Jean wishes him luck with that. That barista is _way_  too pretty for Eren.

* * *

 

Eren smiles at Mina once Jean gets out of line and sits down. Nothing can get him down. Not now. Not even Jean's existence. "Hey there, beautiful. You come here often?"

 

Mina giggles and blushes. "Eren, stop. You'll hold up the line."

 

He cocks an eyebrow, and gestures to the empty space where a line should be. "Yeah, sorry. People are totally dying to get a cup of coffee, I should get out of the way."

 

She giggles again, and lightly shoves his shoulder over the counter.

 

"Awe, come on, don't be like that." Eren smiles a lopsided grin. "Here, what bomb did you want to drop on me? You're some crack seller? You only wear underwear made of candy?"

 

Mina laughs. "You're so weird!" Her face softens, and Eren almost swears that it gets a little nervous. "I'll- I can tell you after I get off. Over lunch, or something?" Her blush gets darker.

 

"Sure thing, sweetheart. But just know that I'm paying."

 

The next thing they hear is a scoff as Jean walks by towards the shop's door. Eren's face grows sour, and he looks at Jean as he's stomping to the front door of the shop. Eren scoffs.

 

"God, I hate that guy."

 

"You know him?" Mina asks, hands crossed on the counter.

 

He looks back towards her. "Yeah, his name is Jean. He's literally the biggest douche in the entire fucking world."

 

She giggles. "Really? That's so funny."

 

"Why's that?"

 

"Well, Marco is just so nice. And the way Jean looked at Marco- I mean, at first he looked like he was trying to kill Marco by looking at him- but after Marco smiled, I definitely thought he was just going to kiss Marco then and there. I don't think Marco noticed, though. I just find it funny that he’s so mean but likes one of the nicest people I know."

 

Eren's mouth drops open slightly. "Seriously?" He glances back to the front door, half expecting Jean to still be there before looking back to Mina. "Wow. I didn't know Jean swung that way."

 

Mina smiles mischievously. "What, you hoping to get in on that?"

 

Eren gasps, then makes a fake gagging noise. "I'd much rather drown in a muddy river for the rest of eternity, thanks."

 

Mina smiles again, and they flirt back and forth for about twenty minutes before a couple customers walk in and Eren sits down at the tables, waiting for Mina's shift to end. At least he gets to stare at her while he waits.

* * *

 

Sasha's going to lose her mind. Mikasa hasn't texted. Or called. Or anything.

 

What if Mikasa wanted this to be a one night stand? What if she doesn't want to get to know Sasha? What if she just wanted a quick fuck?

 

Dammit. She probably ran into Sasha on purpose. That's a tactic, right? Pretend to accidentally hurt someone, take them back to your place, fuck 'em, wait for 'em to leave?

 

Sasha groans, and flops backwards onto her bed, holding her phone up to stare at it. Maybe she should text Connie. He wouldn't be able to help, but at least she'd be able to get it out. She wishes her roommate was here. She always listens. Mainly because she's learned to drown out Sasha's voice.

 

She keeps staring at her messages, as if suddenly a message is going to appear, but she knows it doesn't work like that. It's never worked like that.

 

She whines and locks her phone, letting it fall on her chest. She lets her arms drop to her sides.

 

Mikasa's never going to talk to her again. This sucks. Mikasa is so hot, and mysterious, and buff, and _man_  she eats out like she's _starving_. She really let a good one go this time. She should have never left Mikasa's apartment. Never. She should have moved in. Mikasa wouldn't have been able to get rid of her then.

 

But she missed her chance. She left, only leaving a note. It's all her fault.

 

Her phone vibrates, and she sputters. She sits up, her phone falling from her chest and dropping onto her bed, and her hands scramble to pick it up and see who the message is from.

 

Oh.

 

She unlocks her phone.

 

**hey dyke I got out of class and can't go back to sleep get taco bell and come over**

-Bald Ass ⛧ [9:21]

 

She sighs. Well, at least she'll get to talk about it with someone.

 

**fuck u i'll be over in like six milliseconds also kys**

-You [9:22]

 

When she doesn't get a response, she just gets dressed and walks out of her dorm.

* * *

 

"Ymir?" Her boss calls from his office. "Come in here a bit."

 

She puts down the helmet she was just about to put on and takes off her gloves before walking into his office.

 

"What's good, chief?"

 

She only just realizes that for once, he doesn't have a smile on his face. "I saw you on the news this morning."

 

Her eyes widen. On the news? Why was she on the news? When the hell did that happen? She didn't do an interview or anything- why the fuck was she on the news?

 

"I was on the news?" She asks, confused.

 

"Yeah. There was a story- 'bout a man who got shot-" His words stab her in the stomach. "They showed a couple pictures of him. One was of you and him. Dressed in baggy pants and bandannas. One could almost mistake you for gangsters."

 

" _Gangsters_ ?" She echos, offended. "That man is my _uncle_ \- I lived with him from six to nineteen. I can assure you that neither of us are a part of a gang."

 

"Why were you dressed like such then?"

 

She racks her brain, thinking of when the hell she and her uncle could have ever looked like-

 

Halloween.

 

Why the hell did the news station decide to use _that_  picture?

 

"Oh, I think you're talking about our Halloween costumes from last year."

 

He gets a sour look on his face. "Ymir. Come up with a better lie than that."

 

She does too. " _What_ ? I'm not lying, I'm serious- I have a picture on my phone." She pulls her phone from her back pocket, and scrolls through her camera roll until she gets up the only picture that has both her and José. It also has Marco in it. He's holding trick or treating buckets and has a big smile on his face while José and Ymir are pretending to be stoic. There's a bucket of candy in the background on José's porch. Their bandannas are _pink_. They’re not even doing real gang signs! How could he have possibly thought this wasn't a costume? "Look." She puts her phone on his desk, and he looks at the picture. Shock follows soon after. "How did you not know that this was taken on Halloween? My cousin is literally smiling and holding fake pumpkins."

 

"He wasn't..." He trails off. "That candy and that boy weren't in the picture on the news."

 

She realizes what that means, and that sets her off. "They weren't? _They weren't in the picture_ ?" She snatches her phone back and shoves it in her pocket. She puts her hands on her head exasperatedly and looks up at the ceiling. "Are you fucking kidding me? First they put my fucking uncle- the man that fucking raised me- in a coma, and then they try to paint us to be some kind of fucking cholo criminals?!   José hasn't broken a law in his fucking _life_ ! What, was lying about him speeding and attacking a cop not enough for them? They had to go ahead and pretend we're in a _gang_ ?" She doesn't even remember her boss is in the room at this point. "Goddammit. Goddammit! Fucking cops! Fucking shitty, corrupt, racist ass _government_ ! They just like to lie about _everything_ , don't they? Just so they can kill any fucking non-white they want for fun! Yo no quiero que muera! No quiero morir! Quiero vivir una vida normal! ¿Por qué no puede la policía me dejan en paz?!"

 

"Ymir." Her boss says quietly, softly. She shuts up, panting, and a bit embarrassed. She only realizes that she's crying once she stops yelling. "Maybe you should take the rest of your day off."

 

She tries to calm herself down. She's still shaking, but she manages to keep her voice steady. "Alright. That's probably best. Thanks."

 

She leaves with blurry vision and without another word.

 

* * *

 

Armin hardly ever considers note taking as anything but tedious and mind numbing. Two hours of fingers clacking away on a laptop keyboard or, if the universe hates him enough on a certain day, two hours of a pencil wedged painfully between his fingers to successfully shit out the chicken scratch that is his handwriting after forgetting his laptop at home.

 

Today, however, when he's an hour into Geography with cramps in his palms, he somehow isn't particularly bothered, and doesn't find taking these notes all too bad at all. These notes are actually worth taking this time. He owes it to someone.

 

He can't even remember the last time he laughed because of a reason pertaining to something other than that bald kid. That kid is always just so funny. Armin wishes he knew him better.

 

Maybe this is his chance!

 

So he has to take the best notes he can, no matter how bored he is finding out how Russia was politically separated from Asia even though it's physically integrated. Because he wants to help out that bald kid, too.

* * *

 

Marco talks with Hannah as he leaves Anatomy that day. He can feel holes burning in his back as he faces away from Jean's gaze. He still feels _really_ bad about holding up the line at the coffee shop that morning. Jean looked so furious.

 

The chat he's having with her is idle, and he isn't really thinking as he's talking. He's probably spewing something about Thomas, talking about how good he would be with Hannah and the like while she blushes. It's just stuff he says all of the time. His mind is elsewhere.

 

They begin walking out of the classroom, and they're still talking in the hall, but Marco still can't focus on the conversation.

 

Why does Jean hate him so much? What did he do? Marco considers himself a pretty decent guy. He can't think of any time he's wronged Jean. So it can't be personal, can it? It has to be because he's Mexican. Or gay. Or both. That's the reason his high school peers hated him. He didn't do anything to them. So that has to be what Jean's issue is, right?

 

He hates this. He hates that Jean has to be like this- like everyone else at his place back home. At least Jean's a pretty sight to see, even if he's always so-

 

" _Marco_ !" Hannah shouts, giving him an angry look. He snaps out of his thoughts, jolting and looking over to her with wide eyes. They're walking outside. When did that happen? "Don't compliment that guy! He's an absolute _witch_ ! Especially if he really _is_ like that. He's literally known on campus for being a grade-A douche. The guy has two friends! And for a good reason. So don't say anything _nice_ about him when he's so mean to you! To _everyone_!"

 

"Wh-" Marco breathes out, and realizes he must have started thinking aloud at some point. "Oh, was- was I talking?" He's glad that his skin is too dark for him to blush.

 

" _Yes_!" She stops walking and puts her hands on her hips. "I've noticed him glaring at you too, but I always thought you guys just had some sort of beef; not that he was some sort of racist homophobe!"

 

Marco stops walking too, and he rubs the back of his neck with his hand. "Now, I don't know if that's true-"

 

"Well, it's certainly looking like it! Why else would he be so mean to you? You never did anything!"

 

Marco bites his lip. "I mean, I guess."

 

"What a dick." Hannah scoffs. She begins walking again. "I ought to give him a piece of my mind, I tell you! You're going to confront him, right?"

 

"That's what my cousin's girlfriend wants me to do, too." He sighs, walking alongside her.

 

"Well, you better." She huffs. "Or I'll do it."

 

Marco chuckles, half forced. "She said that too."

* * *

 

Mina's been with Eren for six hours now, including during her work. Miraculously, she's been able to avoid having to tell Eren, even throughout their three hour walk around town. She's so lucky Eren has the ability to bring up conversations out of nowhere.

 

It's only when Eren walks Mina to her dorm that he points it out.

 

"So, I personally think I've waited long enough." He's standing in front of Mina. She's in between him and her door. She kind of wants to go inside and never come out. "What's your big secret? You killed a man before?"

 

At his words, she giggles, and some of her anxiety melts away. "No!" And just like that, after she says one word, she gets nervous again.

 

He'll run. She just knows he will. He'll run away and never talk to her again. He'll call her psycho and tranny and freak and hermaphrodite and every other name she's heard.

 

"Hey." He says, softly. He puts his hand on her shoulder and squeezes reassuringly, and she almost cries. "You don't have to be afraid to tell me anything."

 

She nodded and looked into his eyes- his beautiful eyes. "Okay. I- I have two things. One's bad and one's... worse." She creases her eyebrows and she's bordering on curled in on herself. "Which one do you want first?"

 

Eren smiles slightly, as if not believing what Mina has to say is actually bad.

 

But it is.

 

"Let's do the easier one first." He says. His hand is still on her shoulder.

 

"Okay." She breathes out. "I... I have, uh..." She can't look him in the eyes anymore. She has to look at the ground. "I have OCD." She looks back up at him, and Eren's expression hasn't really changed. "It's, uh- Obsessive Com-"

 

That gets him moving. "No, no, I know what it is." He still hasn't moved his hand, and his smile gets bigger. "Mina, having OCD isn't a bad thing. Well, I mean, it actually probably is. It must suck _major_ to have it, but, I mean- that doesn't change how I feel about you. I like you." He smiles a bit more fondly. "A lot."

 

That helps her a bit, but the other information is definitely, _definitely_ a lot worse.

 

"I like you too, Eren. A lot. But, I- I have something else to tell you." And Eren still looks like he doesn't believe it's bad. "I- Well, I mean, I- I'm not a girl."

 

Eren gets a really confused look on his face.

 

"Well, no, I mean- I am a girl, but... I haven't... Always been." She says, cringing as she's forced to look at Eren's confused face. This hurts so much. "It's- It's why I can't keep a boyfriend for long. Because they find out that I'm... I'm not really a girl."

 

Mina can almost see it click in his head. His eyes widen and he gets a bit of shock on his face.

 

But then he just goes back to smiling.

 

"Mina, you _are_ a girl."

 

Did he not hear her? She just told him that that's not entirely true. "Eren-"

 

"No." Eren interrupts. And he still hasn't moved his damn hand. "You're a girl. You've always been a girl. You always will be a gorgeous, wonderful girl. Regardless of what the doctor said when you first came into this world in all your beautiful, girly glory."

 

Mina begins to smile and tear up. "Eren-"

 

Eren interrupts her again. "I'm not done complimenting you yet. You are a beautiful, wonderful girl with amazing eyes, and soft cheeks. And your hair is soft. You have soft hair that smells like that girly shampoo that I can smell in the cosmetics section at Target." Mina giggles over tears. "Your nails are pink. Don't you think I didn't notice. They're a very pretty shade of pink. Look." He moves his hand from her shoulder and takes both of his hands to cup her fingers and show her her own nails. "Look at this!" He points out her ring fingers. "These ones even have flowers on them. Now those are some girl nails, if I've ever seen some." Her tears land on their hands. "Whoa, hey." He says once he sees the tears, and looks up at her face to see water rolling down her face.

 

"Why are you crying?"

 

"You-" She chokes out. "You don't mind? That I- I'm not originally a girl?"

 

"You _are_ originally a girl. If you're asking if I mind that your chromosomes for some reason didn't get the memo, the answer is no. I don't mind. Because it's silly for me to care. Because you're still Mina." She moves one of her hands away to wipe away some of her tears with a smile on her face. "And you're beautiful, and sweet, and I'm hoping that you want to be my girlfriend." He moves one of his hands too, to wipe the cheek that she didn't. " _Girl_ friend."

 

Mina lunges forward to wrap her arms tightly around Eren. She buries her face in his chest. "I do. I do want to be your girlfriend."

 

" _Sweet_." He says, and she feels him bury his face in her hair. "I totally scored. You're way out of my league."

 

She just laughs again and presses closer to him, tears still in her eyes and a huge smile still on her face.

* * *

 

Mikasa still hasn't sent a text. It's 3:08 PM, she hasn't had class or work yet, and she still hasn't sent a text. Sasha's saved as a contact- Mikasa's already checked the number countless times. She debated for a long time whether or not to put an emoji after Sasha's name in her contacts. But even after all of this, she still hasn't sent a goddamn text. She knows she should. She _wants_ to.

 

But for some reason, she just can't.

 

For the first time in what feels like her entire life, Mikasa knows what Eren means.

 

This feeling is most definitely among one of the worst. She's at a loss for words, and she's afraid of what Sasha will say back. The question is: why? Mikasa has never felt like this about any girl before. And she's been in a lot of relationships. But never one where she felt like this. Afraid, vulnerable.

 

Despite what any of these feelings could mean, no matter how scary the reasoning could be, she needs to steel up and take her own advice. Just do it. Just send Sasha a text.

 

So, she does. It takes a lot of retyping, a lot of double checking the message, even a time where Mikasa throws her phone to the foot of her bed and just lays down to stare at the ceiling for five minutes. It's 3:27 by the time she actually sends out a message.

 

**Hello, Sasha. It's Mikasa.**

-You [15:27]

 

Good. Precise.

 

She doesn't allow herself to dwell on the message like she knows Eren would. Instead, she locks her phone and sets it on her nightstand. She stands up from her bed to walk over to her dresser. She opens one of her drawers and stares down. She's heavily considering just calling in sick for work and skipping class.

 

It's not false. She might as well be sick, feeling like this about someone.

* * *

 

"Did you hear about that Bodt guy?" Christa hears someone a cubicle over say. She immediately stops typing, freezing to hear the conversation.

 

"Yeah. Sad, isn't it? Looking at his social media, that guy seemed like a saint." A different voice responds.

 

The first voice speaks up again. "Well sure, but not everyone is how they seem. That guy tried to attack a cop, for Pete's sake."

 

"I'm very doubting that. Have you even checked his Facebook? He just talks about cute animals and his niece and nephew. I heard he wanted to be a cop, too."

 

"Well, I'm very doubting _that_ . You know how Mexicans are. Especially with a name like _José_. They never want to be cops, and they certainly never have any respect for-"

 

Christa slams her hands on her desk out of fury, and stands and whips around to face the cubicle next to her, her barely being able to see over the wall separating them due to her height. The two both look startled, probably because of the loud noise and the fact that for the first time in her life, she looks angry.

 

"José Bodt is my fianceé's uncle. Don't ever, _ever_ say anything racist about that sweet, loving man. He's never done _anything_ but respect every person of authority, and the fact that the media is making him out to be evil is disgusting. This _is_ all because he's Mexican, but _none_ of it is because of the _stereotype_ that _you_ think he has for being such. This is the racism of a police officer. So _don't_ push your hate speech against one of the best men I've ever met."

 

The two look shocked, and one looks like she's attempting to speak, but is having trouble with words.

 

"I- I'm sorry- I didn't know were with his nephew-" It was the first voice.

 

" _Not that one_ ." Christa seethes. As if it wasn't enough that she’s a racist. "And even if I _wasn't_ with his niece, it wouldn't matter. The fact you think that he attacked a cop just because he's Mexican is sickening. So long as you sit next to me, you don't say anything even remotely like that again."

 

This isn't something she does very often; get angry. But now, she's furious. She thinks of Ymir sobbing, of her cursing, of her hurting. She thinks of how José might never smile that happy smile he has ever again, of how he might never wake up. _Because he's Mexican_.

 

After neither of the two say anything, she huffs and sits back down at her desk. Her hands are shaking, her vision is blurry, and she can't focus. But she knows if she goes home, those two will just talk more about José. She needs to stay here, and keep that stuff out of their mouths for as long as she can.

 

The second voice whispers a quiet 'holy shit' once Christa is seated again.

* * *

 

" _Connie_!" Sasha screams as she walks into his dorm.

 

Her loud accent wakes him up from the slight doze he was in. Of course _right_ when he started falling asleep, she came in. At least he noticed the signature paper bag in her hand after he blinks his eyes a bit to get the bleariness out of his vision.

 

"No!" Sasha yells, and slams the door as she walks over to his couch and sits next to him. "No time for sleep! I have words I need you to hear."

 

Connie groans. "Great."

 

"Shut up." She says, and opens up the Taco Bell bag to throw his burrito at him. "So last night. Met this girl. Super hot, super buff, completely amazing. You'd never guess what happened."

 

"What happened?" Connie asks with no interest or enthusiasm as he begins to unwrap his food.

 

" _I fucked her_." Sasha squeals excitedly.

 

Connie retches a little on first reaction, and looks over to her with disgust. "The last thing I ever needed was to imagine you getting it on with someone."

 

"Doesn't matter, I don't actually care what you think about that. Point is- she's amazin', but I thought it was a one night stand, which of course, made me very sad due to how incredible she is. But!" She grabs her phone from her jacket pocket and unlocks it to show Connie her messages.

 

**Hello, Sasha. It's Mikasa.**

-BUFF MA [15:27]

 

Connie cringes. "Why the fuck did you save her as that?" Realization slowly enters his mind. "Wait a minute. Why does the name Mikasa sound familiar?"

 

"Oh yeah!" Sasha locks her phone and puts it back in her pocket. "She's that one girl that you said Jean liked in high school." She begins to dig through the bag to grab her quesadilla while Connie's jaw drops.

 

"Dude, _what_ ? Are you fucking with me? Not only is that so weird that you ran into her, but last I saw her, she's _major_ out of your league."

 

"What?" Sasha says, ripping open the packaging and picking up a slice. "How so?"

 

"Well first, she smells mega good."

 

"Sure does." Sasha mutters with a mouthful of quesadilla.

 

"And second, she's super buff. You are most definitely not. You're fat."

 

"Mm, I like to think of myself as thick." Sasha says. "Got those thighs goin'."

 

"Yeah, and that stomach, and those arms-"

 

"And those tits." She interrupts. "Sticks and stones, Connie. You know I don't think I'm ugly for bein' fat anymore. Because quite frankly, I'm pretty hot."

 

"I beg to disagree."

 

"Well, you're also a faggot, so."

 

Well, Connie can't argue with that. "Well, I can't argue with that."

 

"So anyway, I'm gonna text her back once I leave. Because I don't wanna seem desperate."

 

"But it's already been ten minutes since you've gotten that message."

 

"Connie. Ten minutes is not enough time. At _least_ twenty. It makes me seem less desperate, and also hints at the fact that I have a social life."

 

"You don't."

 

"Exactly."

 

Connie rolls his eyes. Completely irrational. What else did he expect from her? But whatever, it's not his relationship that she's fucking up, so it's not his problem unless Sasha does something _really_ stupid.

 

"Well, break out Call of Duty. I'm gonna beat your ass into the goddamn ground."

 

And Connie knows that she's right.

* * *

 

It's Wednesday, and he's standing outside of his classroom for Anatomy. He really wishes he wasn't. He doesn't want to confront Jean. He really doesn't. If Jean _is_ some sort of homophobic racist, and this just wakes something up in him or something, he doesn't think he can deal with being called 'fence-hopper faggot' or 'limp wristed landscraper' or 'woofter wetback'- or any of the other fun little alliterated nicknames those kids would give him- again. He gets that he isn't in Arizona or high school anymore, but he's not fully used to walking down school halls and having no one trip him or ridicule him, so no one can blame him for being a little wary. Sure, he's slowly starting to come to terms that things are better than before, but if someone were to start again with the name calling...

 

He doesn't want to dwell on it. He just has to hope for the best.

 

And the whole thing with José is just stressing him out even more. He hasn't had time to talk to Ymir yet, but he kind of doesn't want to, if it was enough to make her call Marco by his name rather than bruja.

 

Plus he still feels bad about the coffee shop yesterday.

 

Life is just really sucking for him right now.

 

He pushes open the classroom door, and he realizes that this is the first day of the entire year that he's walked into this class without talking to anyone. When he walks in, for the first time, Jean doesn't look over to him. He just keeps typing on his computer, face smooth and relaxed with his eyes lazily hooded, bags under them. His nose is sharp, and his hair is styled a bit today- spiked a bit at the front. His fingers are so nice, so slender. He's so beautiful.

 

Marco bites his lip before going to his seat. When he sets his bag down is when Jean looks up, startled. He sees Marco, and just looks shell shocked.

 

Upon seeing Jean just stare at him for a little bit, Marco clears his throat and speaks up. "Um, hello."

 

He doesn't look any less shocked. "You, uh. You aren't talking with anyone today."

 

Marco's eyes widen, and it's his turn to become shocked. Why does Jean care? Why isn't Jean glaring at him, like he does every time they see each other?

 

Marco shrugs and gives a pathetic excuse for a smile. "Yeah, I, uh. Just got a lot on my mind right now. Not really feeling up to the whole... conversation thing with anyone I usually talk to."

 

Jean looks at Marco's lips. Marco is _really_ glad that blushing doesn't really show up that much on his skin color.

 

"Listen..." Marco says, still standing, but now with a hand on the back of his neck. "I know that you... don't really like me that much. But can I... can I just ask why? I don't exactly know what I did."

 

Jean looks even more taken aback, even leaning a bit farther away in shock.

 

"I mean... if it's the whole... Mexican... or, like, gay thing, I can just move to a different seat..." Marco winces, and the words coming out of his mouth are making him sick, because this kind of sounds like an apology for being Mexican and gay.

 

" _What_?" Jean furrows his brows, and almost looks offended. "What? Dude no; what the fuck? I'm bi." Marco has to physically refrain from squealing after that. "No, it's not. It's not a whole race or sexuality thing, it's..." He looks down, almost ashamed. "I... don't know." He clicks his tongue, and his cheeks go a slight pink. "I, uh. I just kind of get annoyed when you just... talk so nicely to other people? Like all the time? You're just so nice to everyone, and you're friends with everyone, and you just accept everyone..." He groans, and rubs a hand across his face. "Wow. I totally sound like a douche."

 

Marco gets confused. "So... you hate me because I... am nice to people."

 

Jean sighs, and looks back up to Marco. "I mean, no. It's because you're nice to _other_ people all the time."

 

Marco's eyes widen, and he bites his lip before speaking. Jean notices. "You hate me because I'm not nice to _you_? Because I don't talk to you?"

 

His cheeks are full on red now. "Well- I- I mean- I-" He stammers, and his eyes shoot away from Marco faster than he can comprehend. "I- I don't know, dude." His face starts to turn into that scowl again as he just looks down at the floor. "I just- I-" He huffs. "It's whatever. Just shut the fuck up."

 

Marco bites his lip again, to try and stump his smile to as small as possible in an attempt to not grin so wide he splits his face in half.

 

"You know..." Marco says, bouncing slightly on his heels. "I _can_ talk to you, and... be nice to you. If you want."

 

Jean looks back up to Marco in shock, and he's never seen someone blush so hard.

 

"Over a cup of coffee, maybe?" Marco asks, and wets his lips after the words come out of his mouth.

 

"I." Jean has the cutest expression on his face. "Dude, you just found out that I hated your guts _literally_ because you were nice to people other than me."

 

Marco shrugs with a coy smile on his face. "I think it's kind of flattering."

 

His mouth drops open, and he struggles to say something after that. "You." Jean chokes out. "You uh, you like a guy. Someone. You're glad you broke up with your boyfriend when you did, because you like someone else."

 

"Well," Marco giggles. "If I'm being honest, it's you. I know you don't like me and everything, and we've never really talked, but you're, like, _really_ hot." He rubs the back of his neck with his hands again. "It's also flattering that you, uh. Remember things I say."

 

Jean gapes, and opens and closes his mouth like a fish. "I- I um- I'll pick you up. Friday at six, if that's cool." Marco's surprised Jean even formed words.

 

"Yeah." He says, giddy and stomach full of static. "That's cool."

 

"Great, great-" He fumbles to his backpack with shaky hands and pulls out a pen to hand to Marco. He holds out his hand. "Just, uh- write down your number, or whatever."

 

"Okay." He smiles shyly, and feels a crack of lightning run up his spine when they touch so he can write his number on Jean's hand. Once he's finished, he hands Jean his pen back, and he snatches it and shoves it in his bag. He slams his laptop shut, and picks up his stuff, flustered. "Where are you going?" Marco asks with a combination of confusion and concern.

 

"Um. Just remembered. Doing something. Gotta go. I, uh. I'll copy off of your notes. Bye." Jean blurts, and scurries out of the room, leaving Marco behind with a shocked face.

 

"Yo, Marco," Thomas walks up to him, with a similar expression. "Did you just score a date with the meanest guy on campus?"

 

"I..." Marco doesn’t even bother to look over to Thomas. "Yeah." He watches Jean rake his hands through his hair as he's disappearing down the hallway. "Oh. I should probably turn on read receipts for him."

* * *

 

"So, okay. I'm dating a trans girl with OCD." Eren says to himself once he walks into his apartment. He noticed Mikasa's car wasn't in the parking garage, so he takes the liberty of talking to himself to give himself validation of what he found out yesterday. After she'd confessed, he had come inside and watched movies with her all night. He slept over. But not to do things like Mikasa. Nasty Mikasa.

 

So he didn't really have time to thoroughly think about what this meant.

 

"What are her ticks?" He wonders out loud as he walks to the couch and flops onto it. "I didn't see anything while I was there. Maybe it's not super severe?" He sighs and rakes his hands through his hair. "I dunno. Ugh, I dunno." He takes his hands out of his hair and slams them on his lap. "No, Eren. Don't be a prick. You're not allowed to be burdened by this. You like her no matter what. These aren't things to look past. They're things to love." He swipes his hands down his face, unable to keep them still. "I haven't dated a trans person before. Shit, I think the only trans person I even _met_ was Hanji, and I only know them because of-"

 

He stops before he can choke out the name.

 

His throat closes and he blanks out.

 

"No." Eren growls to himself. "Eren, you douche, it's been three years. Three years. You can't lose your shit every time you fucking so much as _think_ of the guy- you have to get over it. Now you have a girlfriend. A nice, beautiful girlfriend."

 

Yeah, but now he doesn't have his boyfriend anymore.

 

Ugh, that doesn't matter though! Sure he loved- maybe still loves, he doesn't know- him, but that doesn't matter, because he really likes Mina now. And Mina likes him back!

 

So did him.

 

"Ugh, Eren, _get over it_!" He yells to himself. "He's fucking dead and there's nothing you can do about it!"

 

He shuts up once he realizes what's come out of his mouth.

 

He's never said that before. He's never called him dead. Only "gone", "passed away". Never "dead". The word causes his throat to hurt and his eyes to sting.

 

"Get over it. Get over it. _Get over it_!" He yells to himself, placing his fingers over his eyes to try and keep his fucking tears in his eyes. He cried enough the first two years.

 

"He's dead! He's _dead_ , Eren!" A sob comes out. He doesn't want it to. “God, you can’t even say his name. Fucking just say his _name_ ! _Get over him_!”

 

He really likes Mina. He does. Whenever he sees her, he feels static in his stomach and heat in his cheeks and fidgety- everything he's supposed to feel.

 

Everything he felt when he was with him.

 

"Stop _comparing_ her to him." He whimpers to himself, significantly less harsh and strong compared to his other statements, grasping his head and not bothering to try and stop his crying. "They're not the same. Mina isn't even a guy!" He breathes heavily through his nose shakily, and tries to calm himself down.

 

There's nothing he can do to erase what happened. He can’t go back and stop him from dying. He'd like to, of course-

 

...But would he? He likes Mina. A lot.

 

But he loved him.

 

Well, _so_? Every second he spends with Mina is a second he falls harder. He's already dangerously close to falling in love with her, too.

 

Eren figures that being in love with two people is okay, so long as one is dead.

 

His bottom lip curls and he chokes out another sob. He wishes he would stop thinking that word. Maybe he should visit his grave. It's a state over, it'll take about 2 hours since he's so North in California, but he needs to go. Bad. He waits until his breathing steadies and he's only shaking a little bit to stand up and grab his keys. He doesn't particularly want to go back to that part of Oregon- he has a bit of a reputation in the awful town- but he needs to make himself read his name. Maybe it’ll give him the balls to even so much as think it.

 

He needs to be there.

 

He's still got tears on his face as he walks out to his car. He'll text Mikasa what he's doing later, when he's coherent enough to type words.

* * *

 

Sasha's been talking with Mikasa since last night. She responded much later than she'd intended; hours. But ever since, they only stopped texting during sleep, and picked right back up in the morning. Sasha couldn't pay attention in either of her classes for the day, just on her phone texting Mikasa about anything, everything.

 

She found out that Mikasa has a really close bond with her brother. She doesn't know why exactly that is, and maybe Mikasa will tell her one day, but for now, all she can do is admire it. She wishes her brothers were as close to her as Eren is to Mikasa. But yeah, no way that's happening. Ever.

 

The two haven't talked about the sex they had, and Sasha isn't sure if Mikasa wants to. Now, Sasha sure as all fuck wants to do more, because how could Sasha _not_ want to when Mikasa has fingers as long and fast as she does? But she doesn't want to suggest it, just in case Mikasa isn't comfortable with it.

 

Maybe she can just... _hint_ at it. Be subtle... Calm about it. Just... innocently invite her over later tonight.

 

Ha. Yeah. "Innocently". Like anything's ever innocent with Sasha.

 

Maybe she'll go over to Jean's and talk with Connie about it. She's sure he's there already.

* * *

 

 

Ymir sits on the couch, silent. The television isn't on. She doesn't even want to chance seeing anything on about José.

 

She called in work today, asked for the day off. Boss allowed it. She also is just going to bounce from class today. She knows that Hanji will let her borrow their notes.

 

God this is pathetic. She's just sitting here, doing absolutely nothing. She needs to go outside, go do something. Go to the beach, maybe. Visit the grotto her and Christa go to sometimes. The place she proposed to Christa at. That'll definitely make her feel better. Christa in her entirety makes Ymir feel better. She loves Christa so much. Christa is just... so beautiful. So kind and caring and gorgeous and perfect.

 

Yeah. She's going to go to the grotto. She needs to get her mind off of José. Get her mind _on_ Christa. Calm her down.

 

She gets up and grabs her keys.

 

She doesn't expect a bunch of reporters outside of her house as she walks out.

 

She's instantly bombarded with waves of professional sounding voices, shouting over one another. She can do nothing but look extremely baffled, in complete shock. She's surprised she's actually able to pick out one question.

 

"What gang are you a part of?"

 

Upon seeing Ymir's face turn from shock to anger, they all quiet down. Ymir forgets about the microphones temporarily as she glares at the reporter who said it.

 

"None. I'm not a part of any gang, and neither is José." She scowls. "How did you guys even get my address?" No one answers the question.

 

"How do you explain the picture of you and your uncle in gang attire? What do you have to say about this and your uncle?"

 

Jesus, this reporter has no emotion. No sympathy. How can she just be so calm about this?

 

"Oh yeah, the picture all over the news that's _cropped_ ? You guys want to see the original picture?" She yells and snatches her phone out of her pocket. Some cameras immediately point down, but a few stay up. She quickly pulls up the image from her camera roll again. "Here, each camera can get a _good hard_ look." She holds her phone in front of each camera she can for a few seconds as she speaks. "I don't know what news station, or _stations_ for all I know, decided to crop this picture. But do you want to know why we looked like this? Halloween costumes. They were Halloween costumes. As apparent by my cousin that you decided to leave out just to be safe and show everyone that we're some sort of gang members." After she's done, she locks her phone and shoves it back in her pocket. "But thanks to you all and everyone who believes this ridiculous, made up story for not even _considering_ that it's not real. Can't help but wonder if people think my uncle and I are some sort of cholo criminals because we're Mexican." She glares at the reporter who was talking to her. The reporter's face hasn't changed. Not one bit. "Check his social media. After that, you go ahead and try to convince me that he's a bad person. You're gonna find nothing on him except for the fact that he loved me, my cousin, and his country. The one he's _registered_ in. _America_ . And that really does suck for him, because the police he admires so much _shot him_ for not being white. _That's_ what I have to say about my uncle." She starts pushing past some of the reporters, causing a fit from most of them, but some of them lag behind. " _Leave me alone_ ," she growls to the ones following her, and for the most part, they do.

 

She can hear some reporters making excuses on their headsets, something about how the people deserve to know, or how they don't care that this is going to look bad for the police. But some of them are apologizing. For what? Letting people know this justice system is corrupt?

 

Whatever. She just wants to go to her and Christa's grotto. If anyone follows her, she'll just... Ugh, she doesn't know. Beat them, probably.

 

God she wishes that this never happened.

* * *

 

 

Armin's getting worried about Eren- he hasn't responded to his texts that he's sent. He considers driving to his apartment, but realizes that if Eren wanted to talk about it, he would have texted Armin. And that's okay that he doesn't want to talk about it. He's just getting worried is all.

 

He hasn't seen the bald kid- yesterday and today they didn't have Geography.

 

Now here's something he hasn't thought in his life. He's excited for Geography. For some reason, he just can't stop thinking about the bald kid.

 

He's trying to find something, _anything_ else to think about, just so he isn't just some lovesick, two-dimensional loser- but he can't. Television doesn't distract him, games don't distract him, chats with friendly acquaintances don't distract him. He was hoping that talking to Eren might get his mind off of the bald kid, but Eren isn't responding. Which totally sucks.

 

He considers texting Mikasa when his phone rings. He looks at it to see Mikasa calling.

 

Huh. Speak of the devil.

 

"Hello?" He greets when he answers the call.

 

"Armin." Mikasa sounds panicked. Why? Armin's half sure she's never been panicked in her entire life. He starts to panic too. "Do you know where Eren is?"

 

That send chills up his spine. Not only because the way she said it made her sound so scared and vulnerable, but because that that meant Eren was missing.

 

"No." He can hear the fear in his voice. "I've been trying to text him, but he isn't answering."

 

"Me too. I can't get a hold of him. Do you know where he maybe could have gone? I haven't seen him since yesterday morning." Her voice is shaking.

 

"I- I don't know where. I haven't talked to him in a few days. Maybe we could use find my iPhone? That could track him, right?"

 

"Yes." Mikasa says quickly, and she almost sounds relieved. "That's a good idea. I'm going to do that."

 

"Please call me back once you do. Tell me where he is." Armin chews at his lip, and knows he still sounds scared.

 

"Of course. Thank you, Armin."

 

And then a click, and a beep.

 

Where is he? _Where is Eren_? Eren is his best friend. He doesn't want to lose him.

 

He could be in danger. He always answers his phone when Mikasa texts or calls, no matter what. Everyone who knows Eren knows that much.

 

He really, really hopes Eren is okay.

* * *

 

 

"You were right." Jean says as he walks into his apartment. He knows better now than to think it's empty during the day. "Fucking assholes, fuck you, you were _right_."

 

This time, the two are playing Battleship on his coffee table.

 

"Go back to class." Connie mutters, studying his board so hard that Jean's half certain he's going to give himself a stroke.

 

"The fuck are you yammerin' about, ponyboy?" Sasha asks as she places a peg on the top half of her board.

 

"Look." He holds up the hand with Marco's number on it,. They look over lazily, and he sees the two's faces turn from bored to shocked.

 

"Is that a phone number?" Connie asks, seeming almost disbelieving.

 

"Sure fucking is." Jeans slams his hand back down against his thigh, and uses his other one to chuck his backpack across the room. He sets his laptop on the table next to the Battleship boards.

 

"Holy shit, dude." Sasha gapes. "Whose?"

 

"I just said 'you were right'. Who the fuck do you think?" He scowls.

 

It takes too long for realization to come onto their stupid faces.

 

" _Seriously_?" Connie breathes out, as if he's had the wind knocked out of him.

 

"I was so jokin'." Sasha says. "I didn't think you _actually_ liked him."

 

"Well, I do!" Jean squeaks out of distress. He shoves his hands through his hair. "I can't fucking believe this. You were right. A- a- about everything. Seeing him smile at me, and- and compliment me-" He pushes out a humorless laugh. "I really fucking like him. This Spanish-speaking, freckled, beautiful, tanned, sweet man with deep dimples and perfectly parted hair. This fucking asshole I can't stand when he talks to another human being because I'm a possessive piece of shit, almost to the point of being straight up abusive!"

 

"Dude, are you okay?" Connie asks warily.

 

Jean laughs. "No!" He says with a big smile.

 

"Well stop being a little bitch; are you gonna text him or not?" Sasha says expectantly. "Because if you are, you better do it while we're still here."

 

"Oh, fuck yes, you better." Connie agrees. "You sit down and pull out your phone, we're doing this together."

 

Jean realizes he has no idea what to say to Marco. Jean has _two_ friends. Jean hasn't tried forming any sort of relationship with someone in years other than Sasha, which was forced upon him by Connie. He needs all the help he can get. He sits down on the couch in some form of surrender, and pulls out his phone and brings up the messages. He punches in Marco's number next to the "To:" at the top of the screen.

 

"Okay, first thing's first." Sasha says, lifting herself onto the couch while Connie gets up and walks around the table to sit on the other side of Jean. "Say it's you. Duh."

 

"Right." Jean says, and hovers his fingers over the keys. He doesn't press his thumbs down.

 

"Well?" She berates after a while. "What are you waitin' for?"

 

"He's- he's in class."

 

"So? Everyone texts in class."

 

Jean breathes out a sigh, and presses his thumbs down onto the keyboard.

 

**hey marco its jean**

 

"Is that good?" He looks over to Sasha, who nods in approval. He gathers the courage to hit the send button, and it's the most stressful thing he's ever done.

 

Once the "Delivered" shows up under the message, he lets out a shaky breath.

 

"Alright, now add him to your contacts." Sasha continues. "Save him as somethin' cute, just in case he sees. So he knows you're into him."

 

"Like put 'Marco', but with a heart after it." Connie says.

 

"Perfect." Sasha says to him, completely free of sarcasm. "Imagine seein' your crush have your contact saved with a heart. Oh my gosh."

 

Before Jean can tap on Marco's number to save it, the "Delivered" below Jean's message turns into a "Read 15:07"

 

Sasha gasps. "He has read receipts on."

 

"Jean, that's a real fucking keeper right there." Connie nudges him.

 

The typing bubble is barely there before Jean gets a response.

 

**Hi Jean! :)**

-(818) 555-1234 [15:07]

 

**I'm glad you messaged me. It's so boring in here haha**

-(818) 555-1234 [15:08]

 

"Jean." Sasha squeals. "He uses smiley faces instead of emojis. Smiley faces, Jean."

 

"God, I'm fucked." Jean mutters. "What do I say now?"

 

"Agree with him. Always." She nods.

 

**lmao i can only imagine**

-You [15:08]

 

**anatomy drives me up the wall. the prof makes me wanna sleep for years**

-You [15:09]

_Read 15:09_

 

**Right?**

-(818) 555-1234 [15:09]

 

**The professor is a nice person and everything**

-(818) 555-1234 [15:50]

 

**But I can't stand him just droning on about cyst formation for two hours!**

-(818) 555-1234 [15:10]

 

**It never ends. I'm totally going bananas in here.**

-(818) 555-1234 [15:10]

 

"Oh my gosh, he's so cute?" Sasha says. "How the hell did you get this guy's number?"

 

"I also may or may not be picking him up Friday at six."

 

"Whoa, what?!" Connie yells. "Dude!"

 

"Well, I don't see an address on that hand! Ask him about that! Ask him where he lives!" Sasha screeches.

 

**truuuu**

-You [15:10]

 

**hey uh where do u live? i dont know where to pick u up friday lmao**

-You [15:11]

_Read 15:12_

 

**Haha oh my goodness, I didn't even think of that!**

-(818) 555-1234 [15:12]

 

**I live in the apartment building right on the corner of Main and 3rd.**

-(818) 555-1234 [15:12]

 

Jean's mouth falls the fuck open.

 

"No. Fuckin'. Way." Sasha breathes.

 

"The guy lives in the _same fucking building_ as you?" Connie's having just as hard a time talking as Sasha. "Literally how can you get any luckier?"

 

**oh what dude no way**

-You [15:13]

 

**we live in the same building**

-You [15:13]

_Read 15:13_

 

**Oh my goodness!**

-(818) 555-1234 [15:13]

 

**How cool!**

-(818) 555-1234 [15:14]

 

**Maybe you can even visit tonight ;)**

-(818) 555-1234 [15:14]

 

" _Whoa_!" All three of them yell at the same time.

 

"Oh my fucking god." Connie says under his breath.

 

Sasha covers her mouth with her hands and stares at the screen with wide eyes. "He seemed so innocent." Her words are muffled behind her hands.

 

Jean doesn't even consider typing a response when he sees the typing bubble come up again.

 

**OH MY GOODNESS**

-(818) 555-1234 [15:15]

 

**I MEANT TO PUT A REGULAR SMILEY FACE**

-(818) 555-1234 [15:15]

 

Sasha gasps. Connie is still reeling. "This is perfect. Tease him."

 

"Good idea." Jean grumbles.

 

**lmao suuuure u did big boy**

-You [15:15]

_Read 15:16_

 

Jean and Sasha high five.

 

**Oh my goodness**

-(818) 555-1234 [15:16]

 

**so what apartment do u live in exactly?**

-You [15:16]

_Read 15:16_

 

**218 :)**

-(818) 555-1234 [15:17]

 

**perfect**

-You [15:17]

 

**i guess since its so convenient, ill see you tonight**

-You [15:17]

 

**;)**

-You [15:17]

_Read 15:18_

 

**Omg**

-(818) 555-1234 [15:18]

 

Sasha lets out a long puff of air when Jean locks his phone.

 

"Okay." She states, leaning on the back of the couch. "So I'm only like, eighty percent sure that just happened."

 

"I'm like... zero percent." Jean mutters, staring at the black screen of his phone.

 

Sasha rubs her hands down her face before speaking again. "So, what exactly put the train off tracks here? You hated the guy like, three days ago."

 

"I." Jean widens his eyes and breathes out a long breath of air. "I have no fucking clue. I really don’t. Talking to him today- just- just looking at him smile at me and staring in his eyes, like- fuck, I don’t know. I mean, you were right. I guess you pointing out what I felt like just. Made me recognize something."

 

"Holy shit." Sasha whispers. "I'm a prophet."

 

"Okay but Jean, you're still mega possessive. If you're gonna date him, you have to chill, because he's obviously very social."

 

Jean puts his head in his hands. "I know. I know. I just- ugh, I wish I could stop myself!"

 

Sasha pipes up. "Just go with him everywhere. You'll have to see him talk to other people, but at least you'll be with him."

 

"Not what I meant, Sash." Connie mutters. "Jean, what I'm saying is: get the fuck over it and at least _try_ not to be a complete douche. I know it’ll be hard, but this kid seems nice, and you owe him at least that much if he’s going to give you a second chance."

 

Jean sighs again. He knows Connie is right.

* * *

 

Mina's still waiting to hear back from Mikasa. She had called around 3 earlier, asking about Eren. Which of course made Mina worry like crazy.

 

What if he's hurt? What if he's lost? So many things could be wrong.

 

Her ticks are becoming stronger. Her tick of hair pulling is back due to stress.

 

Pull out one hair, another hair, another hair. Put on the floor. Wait one second, two, three, four, five. Repeat.

 

She's going to make herself bald if he doesn't come back soon.

 

What if she never sees him again? She finally got a good, loving boyfriend who accepted her for who she is. And now she'll never see him again.

 

Her crying interrupts her hair pulling for another tick.

 

She rubs under her right eye with her index finger once, twice, three times, four times. She rubs under her left eye with her pinkie once, twice, three times, four times. By 3:50, her lower lids are beginning to bleed because she can't stop crying.

* * *

 

Mikasa finds out where Eren is at 3:34.

 

Out of every place, it's one she definitely didn't expect.

 

Their hometown.

 

Eren's never liked the people of their hometown, and they've never liked him. Or Mikasa, for that matter. It's a small desolate town, filled with straight white people. And they aren't too fond of "gay" beaners and gay Japs, as they're known.

 

She needs to go get him. She has no idea why he decided to go there, and she'd be a huge liar if she tried to say that she wasn't worried.

 

She goes in her car, and opts on leaving her phone at their apartment. She just wants to focus on Eren.

 

The two hours there are tedious, and take too long than what Mikasa wants. Too long to go while Eren is in their hometown alone. It’s dangerous for him. She doesn't even know where he is. But she'll look around. She has to find him.

 

First, she drives by their old house, but only sees Carla's car. She goes to Eren's favorite restaurant in the town, and still doesn't see Eren's car. She goes to her own favorite restaurant, to Carla's, to the bowling alley he loved so much, to the convenience store they would go to at one in the morning when they couldn't sleep. She's beginning to think that maybe he's left.

 

The thought of going to the cemetery only dawns on her when she passes it.

 

She feels like a bowling ball was dropped from her throat to her stomach. She can't think of where else he would be. He's either visiting Grisha, or _him_ . And she hopes it's Grisha. Because if it's not, then Eren still loves _him_ , and he lied about being over _him_ . He still is hurting because of what this town did to _him_.

 

She feels sick.

 

Once she parks along the side of the curb, she sees Eren's car and sighs. She cautiously gets out and walks into the cemetery where Grisha's grave is.

 

He isn't there.

 

But he is at _his_.

 

"Eren." She says softly when she comes close to him, seated with his head bowed down looking at the words on the grave. There are fresh flowers in front of Eren. He looks up to Mikasa slowly. After looking at her for a bit, he looks back to the grave.

 

"How'd you find me?" He asks, and his voice is hoarse.

 

She sits next to him. "Find my iPhone."

 

"Oh." Is his only response, and they sit there for a long time without moving or talking. It's minutes that feel like days of Eren just rereading the words on the grave over and over with a dead expression on his face. "I still like Mina." He says, as if he's trying to convince Mikasa. "I do. She's a wonderful girl, and I do want to date her." He looks up to Mikasa, and she looks back. Eren doesn't look hurt, or angry, or sad. Just tired and blank. "But I miss him."

 

Mikasa takes a hold of his hand with hers. "I know you do. I know you miss him."

 

"A lot." He squeezes out. "I miss him a lot. I don't know how I'm not over him yet. It's been three years."

 

"Honestly, Eren," Mikasa hears herself sound resigned. "I'd be surprised if you ever got over him. You loved him more than I've ever seen you love anyone."

 

Eren sounds like he tried to make a laugh, but just ends up breathing air through his nose a little louder than usual. "Yeah."

 

Mikasa doesn't let go of Eren's hand. It's not right for her to. Not now.

 

She tries to empathize.

 

"When my parents died," She starts, and keeps going when Eren doesn't stop her. "I had no one. They were all I knew, and all I loved. I loved them a lot; not only because I had no one else to love, but also because they were great. They cared for me, and cherished me, like good parents." She sighs. "You know how this story goes. And after, I was devastated. I had everything taken away from me, and was stuffed into some orphanage at age 10. I was afraid. Lonely. Scared. Sad. Nightmares of the men and watching my parents getting murdered and feeling what they'd done to me." She squeezes his hand. "But then you came. And Grisha and Carla. And then Armin. And while I still miss my parents every day, and still struggle with the thoughts of those men, I love you. Just as much as I loved my parents, if not more. You make me feel safe and appreciated, just like my parents." She looks over to Eren to see him crying. "It will take a long time to be okay with him being gone. And you'll probably never get over him, and never not miss him. But that's okay. Because you like Mina a lot, and I know you'll love her just as much as you loved him. Even if it doesn't feel like it right now."

 

He sniffles, and she can tell he chokes back a sob, but she doesn't mention it. She just lets him rest his head on her shoulder.

 

"How the fuck did you not cry while saying that?" He says, voice even rougher than before and cracking mid sentence.

 

She smiles slightly, a bit humorless, but appreciative nonetheless. "Nine years is enough time for me to be able to talk about it. It happened, and there's nothing I can do to change it. While, yes, it still affects me, that doesn’t mean I’m not able to go some days without thinking about what happened. And that's because of you. It's easy not to cry when talking about it now that I know that you're here and I'm safe. And it shouldn't be easy for _you_ not to cry. Because it's only been three."

 

"God, you're such a good sister." He lets out a sob this time. "Fuck you."

 

She chuckles, and just rests her head on top of Eren's.

 

They sit there for a long time, and Mikasa thinks of all the things she wishes she'd said to him before he died. The things she'll never get to say. She wishes she could tell him how much Eren loves him.

* * *

 

 

There are reporters in front of her house when Christa comes home from work. Upon seeing her, the reporters scurry to her and ask her questions.

 

"What can you tell us about José Bodt?" "Why do you live here as well as José's neice?" "Are the Bodts in a gang?"

 

Why are they here? Why are they asking Christa about José? How did they find her address?

 

The reporters keep shouting questions, and she watches each emotionless face, each microphone, each camera.

 

She can't handle it. She freezes, and as much as she detests it, she begins to tear up.

 

It's too much- there's too many people, surrounding her, yelling-

 

"Stop!" She chokes out, almost weak, but the questions don't die down. Her tears grow a bit bigger. "I just want my fianceé and me to have a good life! Please leave us alone!"

 

But they won't stop. They just keep yelling. Her tears start to stream down her face, and she doesn't want them to, but she _can't help it_ because there's _way too many people_ they're here and they're yelling and they're going to hurt her and they're going to hurt her and they're going to hurt her-

 

" _Hey_ !" Ymir's voice yells from behind Christa from the driveway, followed by a car door slamming and footsteps running. "All of you get the fuck away from my fianceé! You were already fucking here earlier, get the _fuck off of my fucking property_!"

 

"Ma'am, some of this is live! You can't curse on live television!" One of the reporters screeches.

 

" _Then don't fucking put us on live television_! Get the fuck away from us!"

 

With that, all of the reporters wrap up begin to pack, and a lot of them and their cameramen getting yelled at through headsets.

 

They're gone quickly, mainly due to Ymir yelling at them, and even when they're gone, Christa's still breathing heavy, tears running down her face, and whimpering. Ymir wraps her arms around her and buries her head in Christa's hair. She calmly shushes Christa, rubbing her back while she cries into Ymir's shirt.

 

"It's okay." Ymir says softly into Christa's hair. "They're gone. You're okay. You're okay, baby. They didn't hurt you. I won't let them hurt you."

 

And Christa knows this isn't rational. A bunch of reporters wouldn't hurt Christa. But she can't control when her anxiety decides to bring up her fears- when it decides that now's a great time to break down. And Ymir knows this.

 

Ymir knows everything. Ymir knows how to console Christa, how to make her laugh, how to keep her spirits up. Christa can't help but think of how lucky she is to have such a wonderful person as they stand hugging a few feet from their porch.

 

Even if everything's going wrong, she still has Ymir.

* * *

 

Connie doesn't care that Jean just left for Marco's. And neither does Sasha. They're still gonna hang out at his apartment.

 

Jean's apartment is nice. Messy, sure, and chipping paint, but it has a lot of plants and picture frames with pictures mainly of the three of them, a few here and there of Jean's family and past pets. He has nice decorative rugs, fairly comfortable bed that both Connie and Sasha like to nap in sometimes. He just has a good, solid apartment.

 

Also he's the only one of them that has a PlayStation.

 

"I bet you five bucks they're gonna fuck." Sasha says as she plays some useless game on her phone.

 

Connie is just playing some unpopular Playstation game that no one cares about. But it's the only game he hasn't played of Jean's, so. "Can't place that bet, because they definitely are."

 

"We're so smart." Sasha says.

 

"Oh hey, did I tell you about a cute guy I met in my Geo class?"

 

"What?" She stretches out the vowel. "No way."

 

"Yup." He slams a few buttons before responding. "He's got doe eyes, little bit of a bowl cut. Total twink."

 

Sasha clicks her tongue. "Never gonna work. Two twinks can't be with each other."

 

"Watch us." Connie is now fully determined to date that blond twink he doesn't know the name of.

* * *

 

 

Marco wasn't expecting anyone to knock on his apartment door at nine at night, proven by the fact that he was two knuckles deep in his ass with a hand around his dick. Literally, why would _anyone_ come over? He hasn’t had someone at his home uninvited in a very long time, _especially_ not 9:35.

 

The knock startles him greatly. "Uh- Um, just a second!" He yells loud enough so the person on the other side of the door can hear him. He tries to be quiet when he pulls his fingers out from inside of himself, and is thoroughly disgusted with himself. He goes to the bathroom real quick and washes his hands. He grabs boxers, pants, and a large shirt (large enough to hide the complete embarrassment) and hopes he isn't taking too long putting them on.

 

He runs to the door and tries to straighten out his hair before yanking it open.

 

He certainly wasn't expecting Jean. He thought their flirting from earlier today was just that; flirting. He didn't think that Jean was _actually_ going to come over.

 

Yet here he is.

 

Well, Marco's not disappointed.

 

"Jean!" He can feel himself smiling. "Hi!"

 

Jean's cheeks get pink. "Yo. It cool if I hang out with you for a while? Need to get away from a couple people at my apartment right now."

 

"Of course! Come in!" He steps aside to let Jean in and closes the door behind him. "I have some tea, some water, soda, beer."

 

"Oh, nah, don't worry about it, I'm good."

 

"Well, alright. But let me know if you change your mind."

 

"Yeah man, no problem."

 

Marco sits on the couch and looks up at Jean, who's just standing kind of awkwardly. "You can sit down, silly."

 

"Oh, cool. Thanks." He looks down to the couch to see where to sit. Like a normal human being would. Marco just wishes he hadn't, because apparently the big shirt isn't enough to hide what he has going on down South while he's sitting down. Quite frankly, he's pissed at his dick for not going down _at all_.

 

Jean's cheeks get extremely red, and he stares down.

 

"I-" Marco starts. "I- okay, I just want to clarify that- that wasn't you- I- I just-"

 

Jean purses his lips and looks up at Marco's face with a still shocked and blushing expression.

 

"I. All you need to know is that this wasn't you."

 

Jean looks confused now too. "Well that sounds pretty sus. What happened?"

 

Now, Marco's skin is too dark to show any blushing. But honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if his cheeks were red from how much heat is coming from his cheeks. "Well- I- You know, it's- I mean, I wasn't expecting anyone over tonight- and- and- I mean, everyone does it-" Marco bites his lip and he notices that Jean is beginning to look more and more aware and entertained as Marco continues. "Please don't make me say it."

 

"Mm, say what?" Jean says sarcastically. "I don't think I know what you're talking about."

 

Marco opens and closes his mouth not dissimilar to a fish for much longer than appropriate. He then buries his head in his hands. "I was masturbating, okay?" His words are slightly muffled.

 

Jean keeps being a prick though. "What was that? I don't think I quite heard you."

 

"Ugh, you're embarrassing me!" Marco groans, head still in his hands.

 

"Awe, Marco, there's nothing to be ashamed of when it comes to jacking off. Also, I thought we already established that I like you, so I don't particularly mind."

 

Marco shoots up at that, looking startled but also knowing he probably looks overjoyed, despite not having a smile.

 

"If you're okay with it," Jean suggests, and he's acting all cool and steeled, but his cheeks are brighter than tomatoes. "Maybe I could help you out. Give you a new perspective and all that. I think I recall you saying something earlier about me being hot?"

 

"Oh, goodness." Marco's eyes widen. "Well. If you insist, I can’t just disappoint you like that." He bites his lip again, and he just knows that he looks ridiculously shocked and uncertain in his words but _super_ turned on.

 

"Mm, that's cool. I think first we should probably kiss until your lips are numb."

 

"Why, that sounds great." And Marco's at Jean in seconds after he says that, his lips following extremely soon after.

* * *

 

 

Alright. So his episode earlier was definitely very embarrassing. Once he gets in his car after him and Mikasa spend a long time sitting at the grave, and yet he still can hardly get himself to think of his name. He hates it- it’s weak and pathetic that he can’t do so little as to even think _his name_. He gathers himself as much as possible and checks his phone.

 

**75 missed calls**

**126 unread messages**

 

He groans. Fuck.

 

He unlocks his phone, and notices most of the notifications are from Mina. Shit, he's such a bad boyfriend.

 

He opens messages, seeing about twenty from Mikasa, about thirty from Armin, and the rest from Mina save for one from Hanji and a couple from Erwin. He opens the chat for Mina, and reads the messages. They're all variations of "please text me", and even a few "please be okay"s.

 

"Fuck." He says, and rubs his hand that isn't holding his phone down his face.

 

**I'm sorry Mina I went and did something without telling anyone**

-You [22:39]

 

**I'm so sorry**

-You [22:39]

 

**NO it's okay I was just worried! I'm so glad you're okay!!**

-Mina❤️ [22:40]

 

**No it's not ok I should have told you I just didn't think I would worry you so much**

-You [22:40]

 

**What! Eren of course I would be worried. I like you a lot!**

-Mina❤️ [22:40]

 

Jesus. What was Eren doing? He's glad to have this relationship with Mina. It's okay that he doesn't have him, because now he has Mina. It's like Mikasa said: it's okay to miss him, as long as he has Mina to love just as much. And he's not quite there yet, but with how Mina's behaving right now, he's sure he will love her _just_ as much as he loved him. And it will probably take a lot shorter than the two years that he and him were together.

 

He really, really likes her.

 

**Where were you?**

-Mina❤️ [22:41]

 

Oh shit. Well he didn't want to _tell_ her about it.

 

**Haha don't worry about it babe, it's nothing important**

-You [22:42]

 

Yeah. That's one of the biggest lies he's ever told.

 

**NOTHING IMPORTANT**

-Mina❤️ [22:42]

 

**Eren you've been gone for hours! I was so worried! It's obviously very important!**

-Mina❤️ [22:42]

 

Fuck. He knows she has a right to know, and he wants to tell her. But he also really, really doesn't. But he knows he should.

 

**Ok I'll tell you but you have to promise not to get mad**

-You [22:43]

 

 **….. What does that mean** **  
** -Mina❤️ [22:43]

Eren sighs to himself. _Why_ did he word it like that?

  
**No it’s not like. I mean**  
-You [22:43]

  
**I’ll explain tonight if you come over I promise**  
-You [22:43]

 

 **It will take me probably 2 hours to get home so like 12?**  
-You [22:43]

 

 **Okay. I’ll be over then**  
-Mina❤️ [22:44]

 

He locks his phone and begins the drive home.

* * *

 

Mikasa waits to leave until Eren has driven away.

 

As she sees his car disappear, she somehow can’t get herself to start the car. She wonders what triggered this. What made Eren want to come here so bad. To drive all the way to Oregon.

 

She feels so bad for him. He’s hurting. She doesn’t want him to hurt- she’s devastated that he’s feeling this way.

 

But she knows that he likes Mina. A lot. And she knows that with time, he definitely will fall for her just as hard as he did him.

 

She has a hard time thinking his name. It feels like a curse word.

 

She stares at the steering wheel for a second before yanking her keys from the ignition and getting out of her car to go back into the cemetery. As she’s walking to his grave, she looks at all of the ones she passes. She notices a few- the old woman Heather that lived across from her while she grew up. Payton and Asher are next to each other; she remembers the car accident. She recognizes a few more; Miranda, Manna, Isabel, Nicholas, Emily, Abigail, Evan. All people she knew. She doesn’t have any words for them.

 

She stops once she reaches his grave.

 

But she does have words for _him_.

 

She sits down in front of his grave. She stares at the flowers, staring at the red roses. Funny that that’s what Eren brought to him.

 

“Haven’t actually done this to anyone.” She says to the stone, decorated with his name. “And I didn’t imagine you would be the first. I always thought I would do this with Carla first.” She sighs. “But you died before her.”

 

She’s quiet for a while, just staring at big, bold ‘LEVI’.

 

“I know it’s not your fault you got murdered. Just like it’s not my parents’ fault that _they_ got murdered. But I wish you hadn’t done that to Eren. Hadn’t made him feel the pain of knowing someone he loved was taken by someone who didn’t care.”

 

She knows that’s bullshit. She doesn’t blame Levi one bit. She can’t find it in her to be angry at Levi. Not like when he was alive. And she feels dirty for thinking his name, but she knows she can’t just call him ‘him’ anymore. And neither can Eren. They need to accept that he’s gone; they can’t keep treating his name like some swear that should never be said anymore. They owe him that much.

 

“You know I was never your biggest fan. Just some protective older sister wary of anyone dating her younger brother.” She pauses again before speaking. “I’m not like that anymore. Not after you. Eren can take care of himself now, for the most part. I could tell because he was able to find and choose someone to make him as happy as you did.” She reaches out and touches the flowers’ petals. “I wish I could have told you I don’t actually hate you. Because I don’t, and I never have. You made Eren happy. Happier than Carla or Armin or Grisha or any of his past lovers or I could have ever made him. Every time he looked at you, I could see him fall even more in love. At a certain point, that didn’t even seem possible. And honestly, I miss that, and appreciate greatly that you did that.”

 

She didn’t expect to feel stinging behind her eyes and in her throat.

 

“He loved you so much. Loves.” Mikasa looks at the years on the stone. Too close together. “And he’s never going to get over you. He’s never going to forget you. I know that you wouldn’t _want_ him to forget you. You would still want him to miss you, to at least some extent. Because you loved him too. No one wants to be forgotten by someone they love.” She can’t take her eyes off of the grave. Not even when her vision begins to blur. “I hope one day you can meet his girlfriend. She’s very nice. He’s going to be able to move on. Which I know must hurt- but he needs to. He needs to live a life, and have another love. And I’m sorry, Levi. But at least he’ll never get over you.” A tear drops, and she wishes she hadn’t felt it.

 

She wipes her cheek.

 

“This is stupid.” She says to herself. She just gets up and walks away, an ache in her chest and in her throat. As she’s walking out of the gates, she looks over to Grisha’s grave.

 

“Sorry I never called you ‘Dad’.” She whispers, and she hopes Grisha can hear it.

* * *

 

Ymir offers to take Christa on a date- out in the main part of town, treat her to whatever she’d like. Anywhere to eat, shop, visit. To make it up to Christa for having to deal with the press.

 

She chose the diner they came to on their first date.

 

“Okay, yes, it’s awful. The whole situation is awful, and the press isn’t helping.” Christa says. “But I think I totally overreacted. I was being a huge baby.” She folds up the menu and sets it next to her to look Ymir in the eyes. “You know, I’ve always wanted my own paparazzi.”

 

Ymir laughs a boisterous laugh, yet not really disturbing any of the other customers. “Wow, I sure can trust you to make me feel better about any sort of shit situation.”

 

Christa sits up and smiles a big, dorky smile, and Ymir just wants to kiss her. So she does. She leans across the table and they split a peck- something they haven’t done in a long time.

 

She sits back down and looks at Christa with complete admiration. “So what’s new at work?”

 

That gives Christa a bit of an annoyed face and she rolls her eyes. “I swear, people are getting in car accidents on purpose, because everyone is part of an elite group called ‘I hate Christa’. I have a _ton_ of cases to work on. And some, pardon my language, really stupid ones, too!” She puts her head in one hand, and uses the unused one to grasp Ymir’s hand, and Ymir gasps sarcastically at Christa’s words. Christa giggles. “Like, there’s this woman- she crashed into a fire hydrant. You want to know why?”

 

“Why?” Ymir encourages.

 

“She was brushing her teeth. In her car! So she was looking in her mirror. And do want to know who she’s trying to sue?”

 

“Who?”

 

“The toothbrush company!”

 

Ymir laughs again, and Christa joins her.

 

“I know! It’s ridiculous! But since she has our insurance, we have to send a lawyer out for her. A lawyer!” She rolls her eyes again, but this time with a big smile on her face. “And just guess who has to file the paperwork for it?”

 

Ymir hums sarcastically. “Janet?” Christa giggles some more. “Or, no- Cynthia?”

 

“Ymir!” She says between laughs.

 

“ _I_ have to file all that paperwork? Oh, that sounds like a _drag_.”

 

Christa laughs fairly hard at that. “Be serious!”

 

She gasps. “ _Oh_ , it’s _you_ that has to file it, isn’t it?”

 

Christa nods with her grin just as prominent. “You’re so mean.”

 

“ _Me_? Mean? No, you’re joking.”

 

It’s Christa this time that leans over the table to give Ymir a kiss, and they have more idle chat before a waitress comes over and takes their order.

 

They’re in there until ten, despite how they probably shouldn’t have taken that long just to get dinner.

 

But after the time they’ve been having, they deserved it. And about a thousand more after it.

* * *

 

Armin almost screams when he feels his phone vibrate. He was completely lost in thought- except this time, it wasn’t about the bald kid. It was about Eren.

 

Mikasa hadn’t texted him since three, and now, at ten on the dot, he gets a text.

 

From Mikasa.

 

 **Found Eren. We talked. He was at the cemetery back home. He’s on his way here. I am too. Stop worrying.**  
-Mikasa [22:01]

 

He relaxes, for the most part. Eren is safe! He isn’t hurt, he’s on his way home, just like Mikasa. There’s no reason to be scared or worried.

 

Except for the reason of Eren went to the cemetery.

 

 _Why_ the _heck_ would he drive two hours out of his way to visit their old town’s cemetery? To visit his dad? Eren visited his dad’s grave once, and he didn’t seem the most forlorn that Armin has seen him. They were never close, exactly, so why would Eren go visit his grave? Because it had to be Grisha’s grave- Armin can’t think of anyone else in the cemetery that Eren would need to drop everything for hours and-

 

Oh.

 

He must have been visiting Levi.

 

Oh no. Oh no. What happened to Eren? What made him think of Levi? Is he okay?

 

He shakily opens up his and Eren’s messages.

 

 **Text me when you can**  
-You [22:01]

 

He breathes out a shaky breath and locks his phone. And somewhere in him, a voice says that he wishes he was with the bald kid, just so he could have a laugh.

* * *

 

Jean gives himself a couple seconds to recover before flopping next to Marco on his bed. He checks the side of the bed and notices a trash can, and takes off his used condom to tie it and toss it in there tiredly.

 

“Goodness.” Marco breathes out, panting and tired.

 

“I’m assuming that was a bit better than jacking off?” Jean looks over at Marco, who’s face is up and eyes are closed. Marco laughs a bit.

 

“Not if you’re gonna try and be cocky.”

 

“Awe, come on.” Jean says, eyes studying the smoothness of Marco’s tan, freckle covered face. “Jacking off can’t give you hickeys or sweet talk you, can it?”

 

Marco’s face turns to look at Jean, and his smile is big and his teeth are white and Marco is just so fucking _attractive_.

 

“You’re such an ass.” Marco giggles.

 

“Oh come on, _everyone_ knows I’m an ass. You did this to yourself.” Jean laughs before leaning over and gently kissing Marco.

 

Jean can feel him smiling against his lips. “I gotta go clean up my stomach. You staying the night?”

 

“Only if you’ll have me.” They haven’t pulled away from each other’s faces.

 

“Why, I can’t think of anything I’d like more than that.” He croons sarcastically and pecks Jean’s lips again before getting up and walking over to what Jean assumed to be the bathroom. It’s quiet for a bit, and Jean almost dozes off until he hears Marco yell. “Jean, oh my God!”

 

Jean can’t help but get a little startled. He gets up slightly by raising himself on his elbows. “What’s wrong?”

 

Marco comes in, fresh boxers on and stomach free of come, and points at his neck. “Look at how many there are!”

 

Jean’s kind of shocked himself. From far away, Marco’s neck almost looks like a completely different color. He has to choke back laughs- because it’s completely hilarious- in case Marco’s mad at him. “Sorry? I thought you said you liked them.”

 

“I do.” Marco smiles, and walks over to the bed to lay down next to Jean again. “A lot. I just don’t know how I’m going to be able to hide them all.”

 

Jean boos halfheartedly. “Don’t hide them. Now people will know that I'm fucking you.”

 

Marco’s smile is so cute. “What, is that all I am to you? Someone you have sex with?”

 

Jean hums. “I guess you're kinda cute, too.”

 

Marco laughs and playfully shoves his shoulder. “You're so mean.” Marco’s quiet for a while, smile still on his face. “So does this mean we're dating now or something?”

 

“Well I mean, we shared a couple totally cute ass kisses a second ago, and I'm, like, already possessive of you. I was possessive of you before I even talked to you. Looks like I'm in real deep here, so it’s up to you whether or not you want to be with a possessive piece of shit, bucko.”

 

Marco laughs again. “No, I think it's cute, the whole easily jealous thing. I like that. You’re cute. Just try not to hate me whenever I talk to someone now.”

 

“Golly, I don't know if I can promise that.” Jean jokes. “But nah, don't even worry about that. You have like a bajillion friends, and I can’t stop that. I don’t want to stop you in a way, because you’re happy having friends, and you’re pretty kick ass and I like it when you’re happy- especially since I’ve literally only seen you not mega happy _once_ ever. Sure, since I’m a shitty person, I’m gonna get a jealous and bitter and overall fucking awful because I’m terrible, but I have some pretty solid solace.” He raises his hand to Marco’s neck and brushes lightly. “You have these.”

 

“Yeah.” He's still smiling. It's like he never stops. “And they might stay there. I'm half sure most of these are gonna be permanent, from how hard you bit me.”

 

“Awe, sweet. You are okay with that, right? That I bit you hard?”

 

“Goodness, Jean, of course. That was so hot.”

 

“Yeah, I'm known for that.”

 

Marco giggles. “You're such a sleaze!”

 

“I'm known for that, too.”

* * *

 

Mina knocks on Eren’s door right at midnight.

 

She's so nervous.

 

‘You have to promise not to get mad’? What the hell does _that_ mean?

 

Watch Eren be cheating on her the literal day after she got together with him. Just watch. That would so figure. It would be just her luck.

 

The door opens, and at first the expression on his face is worry, almost guilt, but quickly turns to shock, followed by concern.

 

“Mina, what happened to your eyes?” The concern in his voice has Mina relax. At least he respects her enough to care about her well being.

 

“Oh, it’s. Well.” She looks down at her fingers, and though she knows she’s long since rinsed her fingers after her tears stopped, she's still half expecting to see blood and peeled skin. “I- When I cry, I have this tick- I. I rub my eyes-”

 

“You were crying?” Eren has a hint of panic in his voice. “Why?”

 

“‘Why’? Eren, I was so scared! I had no idea where you were!” She says. “And I still don’t. Where were you? Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

 

Eren rubs the back of his neck. “Come in.”

 

His apartment is nice. Pictures of him and Mikasa, lots of papers on the coffee table, cozy rugs and pastel walls, gentle lights. An overall nice place to walk into. She goes towards the couch as Eren closes the door, and once she’s seated, Eren quickly follows. His expression is scared and unsure and guilty, and Mina doesn’t know how to feel about that.

 

“So, I’m sorry for just bouncing like that. I didn’t think everyone would freak out so much.”

 

“Eren, of course we would freak out! You have a lot of people that care about you.”

 

“And I appreciate that. I do, Mina. A lot.” He reaches over and grabs her hand, and she can tell he has a hard time looking in her eyes. “I. The reason I was gone is because I… Well, I went to the cemetery over in my old town.”

 

Mina gasps. He did? Why? Why did he drop everything to go to the cemetery in his old town- what made him do that?

 

She can’t help but notice that he just looks so _sad_.

 

“Why? Who did you visit?”

 

“He. He died um. Three years ago.” He sounds choked up and in pain. “Mina, I want you to know that I really like you. I meant it yesterday and I mean it today.”

 

“I like you too, Eren.” Mina feels he needs reassurance.

 

He smiles slightly, but it still reeks of hurt. “The boy I visited. This is probably going to sound bad, but. I used to date him.”

 

Mina’s eyes widen.

 

Oh.

 

“And, from this, I’m sure you can tell,” He laughs, void of all humor. A tear rolls down his cheek. “I still. I still care about him.”

 

To say she doesn’t know what to do in this situation is way beyond an understatement. She’s completely lost. She’s dated some boys still hung up on their exes, but not… Not ones hung up on their ex that’s been dead for three years.

 

Eren still likes her. She needs to remember that. He still likes her, he likes her, he likes her. But obviously, he still likes his dead boyfriend, too.

 

“Eren. If you’re not ready for a relationship-”

 

“No!” He interrupts. “No, I really like you and I really want to date you- _really_ bad. I just. I’m sorry. That I’m still just… not entirely over him.”

 

Well, that’s alright that he’s not over him, right? He likes her, and it’s not like he’s exactly going to cheat on her.

 

 _Wow_ , Mina. That was a _really_ shitty thought you just had.

 

But she still stands by the thought of it being okay. Sure, she can tell that Eren really liked him, maybe even loved him, if he’s still so hung up on him after three years- but maybe he’ll feel that way about her one day. She hopes. She can try. But she should give him some time to think about what happened, for sure.

 

“Eren, that’s okay. You don’t have to be over him. I can tell you loved him. But we should probably take a little time, if you still have these strong of feelings for him.”

 

He looks even more hurt, and it breaks Mina’s heart.

 

“If- if it makes you uncomfortable, we-” He swallows and his eyes are so wet and Mina just wants to hug him and never let go. “I know it must be a weird position for you. We can take a break if you really want to. We can take as much time as you need, or if you don’t want to be with me anymore, I understand-”

 

“Eren, no, that’s not it at all.” She squeezes his hand. “Of course I still want to be with you, Eren. I wanted a break for _you_ , not for me. I don’t want to force you into a relationship.”

 

“You’re not forcing me, Mina. At all.”

 

Mina smiles, and hugs Eren anyway. “So do you need to take a break? Do you need some space?”

 

Eren hugs her back and buries his head in the crook of her neck. “I need you.”

 

And Mina smiles, and hugs him tighter.

 

Yeah, she’s a good girlfriend. He’s a good boyfriend.

 

This is good. Everything is good.

* * *

 

 **Sasha, is it alright if I come over?**  
-BUFF MA [00:04]

 

Holy. Shit.

 

Holy shit.

 

She is _so_ glad that she isn’t at Jean’s anymore. She is so _lucky_.

 

 _Gosh_ , she hopes she can fuck her. She really, really does. Mikasa is just _so good_. At like, everything. And her roommate is out at a party tonight. This set up is almost too perfect.

 

Don’t get Sasha wrong, she totally likes Mikasa and wants to chill with her even if they don’t fuck- but for sure, it would be one kick-ass bonus.

 

 **yes of course!**  
-You [00:05]

 

 **do you need my dorm number?**  
-You [00:05]

 

Her answer comes in the form of a knock on her door. She can’t find it in herself to question as to why Mikasa knows her dorm number.

 

She looks in the mirror on the wall, checking herself, fixing her hair, pushing up her boobs, spraying on perfume. Just making sure she’s sex worthy.

 

She goes to the door, strengthens herself, and answers it confidently. The confidence goes away when she sees how _tired_ Mikasa is.

 

“Oh my gosh, Mikasa, are you okay?”

 

Mikasa looks slightly confused. “What do you mean?”

 

“Well, you look so… tired. Did something happen?”

 

Mikasa rakes a hand through her hair. “I suppose I’ve just had a… Well, a long day.”

 

“Oh, darlin’.” Sasha says, full of sympathy. She takes a hold of Mikasa’s free hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

 

“Honestly, no.” Oh. Sasha wasn’t expecting that. “I just… I just want to be with you right now. Is that okay?”

 

Sasha’s eyes widen, and she tries not to smile out of respect for Mikasa’s current emotions. “Well, ‘course, darlin’. You don’t gotta ask. I’m here for you. C’mon in.”

 

Mikasa walks in, and as Sasha closes the door, Mikasa immediately sits on Sasha’s bed. She stares at the floor, and looks so drained. It’s hurting Sasha, seeing her like this.

 

“Do you wanna do somethin’? Want me to put on a movie? Or maybe make some tea?”

 

“I. I really do hate to intrude, and I sincerely apologize. But I just… need somewhere to sleep that isn’t my apartment, and… you’re the first person that came to mind.” Sasha’s heart soars at that. “I just… really want to sleep.”

 

“Awe, of course, darlin’. You ain’t intrudin’ one bit. Do you want to sleep with me, or on my roommate’s bed? She isn’t gonna be back ‘till tomorrow evenin’, so it’s whatever you’d like.”

 

“You don’t mind me sleeping with you in your bed?”

 

“Of course not! It’s not like we haven’t slept in the same bed before.”

 

Mikasa smiles a bit. Sasha’s glad.

 

“Thank you. This means a lot to me.”

 

Sasha’s stomach goes warm, and she’s shocked that she likes Mikasa this much. “I’m glad. And you’re welcome here anytime. Do you want some pajamas?”

 

“Alright.”

 

She walks over to her dresser, and pulls out some pants and a sports bra- what she herself wears to sleep every night. She’s about to hand it over to Mikasa when she realizes that she is far, _far_ larger than Mikasa.

 

“Oh. Um. This is-” Sasha blushes. She feels almost ashamed. She looks over to Mikasa, who’s sitting on the edge of the bed. “Well, as you know, I am… Well, bluntly, I’m fat, and. You aren’t. I don’t think these will fit you.”

 

“Oh. Yes. Well, I’ll just sleep in the clothes I’m in now, I suppo-”

 

“What? Darlin’, you’re in jeans! Don’t wear those to bed, those could hurt you, and leave marks on your skin.”

 

“But I have nothing else to change into.”

 

“Well.” Sasha blushes at this thought, but oh well. “If it don’t bother you too much, you don’t gotta sleep with clothes on.”

 

“You don’t mind?”

 

“Absolutely not. In fact, I like it very much when you have no clothes on.”

 

Mikasa smiles a bit again.

 

“You do have a knack for coming on strong, don’t you?”

 

Sasha gives a big grin. “Well, it works, doesn’t it?”

 

“Of course. You’re simply too much for me.”

 

Sasha, in a burst of nervous confidence, decides to walk over to Mikasa and kiss her cheek. One of the last things Sasha expected when pulling away from Mikasa’s face was to see her blushing.

 

Mikasa stands up, showing her height difference to Sasha, and kissing her on the lips. It’s nothing hot, nothing bruising, nothing needy. It’s just a regular, nice kiss, and it leaves Sasha feeling like air. Mikasa only splits apart from Sasha to take her shirt off. No bra. Nice.

 

Watching Mikasa take off her pants was rather nice as well. All she has is black underwear. Sasha appreciates this.

 

“You have such a beautiful body.” Sasha says, looking Mikasa up and down. “You know that?”

 

“Look who’s talking.” At that, Sasha’s gaze snaps up to Mikasa’s face.

 

“ _Me_? I’m fat.”

 

Mikasa makes a face that Sasha can’t really decipher. “And? You’re gorgeous. Your curves are deep, and your thighs are thick. You have nice breasts, and you have one of the prettiest faces I’ve ever seen. Being fat isn’t a bad thing, Sasha. There’s more of you to like.”

 

Sasha smiles wide, and leaps forward to catch Mikasa’s lips. It’s just as domestic as the last one they shared, and they both smile.

 

“Is this moving too fast for you? Like, are you alright with all the… like, kissin’ and stuff?” Sasha’s nervous that she’s making Mikasa uncomfortable.

 

“I’m nineteen, lonely, and I like you. We also had sex the hour we met. So, yes, I’m alright with kissing. And stuff.”

 

Sasha laughs loud and boisterous, and she realizes that the question was silly. But she just wanted to make sure. She just wanted permission to be gushy and romantic the literal day they got together.

 

Wait. _Are_ they together? Oh brother, are they? Oh, she hopes so. She definitely was digging kissing Mikasa like that.

 

They fall asleep starting out just next to each other, but well into sleep, it continues with Sasha in Mikasa’s buff, beautiful arms.

* * *

 

Christa has her head between Ymir’s legs when Ymir’s phone starts ringing.

 

She moves her lips off of Ymir to speak up. “Are you going to answer that?”

 

“I’m letting it go to voicemail.” Ymir’s voice is hoarse.

 

“Ymir-”

 

“Christa, _please_ -”

 

“Alright, alright, okay. Who could be calling you this late, anyway? Isn’t it midnight?”

 

“ _Christa holy fuck_ -”

 

“Alright! I’m sorry.” It’s easy for them to drown out the rest of Ymir’s ringtone when Christa moves her lips and tongue back to where they were.

 

Ymir’s right hand snakes to Christa’s head to slip her fingers in her hair, and her left hand is grabbing onto the sheets so hard that her knuckles are turning pale.

 

Christa can feel Ymir’s thighs shaking, and she’s looking at Ymir’s face, sweaty and panting and contorted and Ymir is just so _beautiful_ , and she’s the luckiest woman in the whole world to have someone as amazing as Ymir.

 

And the phone rings again.

 

Christa’s head goes up again. “You should answer that.”

 

Ymir groans. “ _Fine_ , but only for you.” She reaches for her phone while Christa sits up on her knees. “Oh shit!” Ymir squeaks out when she looks at her phone. It startles Christa, and Ymir swipes and puts the phone to her ear immediately. “Hello?” Christa can hear words from the phone, but can’t decipher them. “Yes, yes that’s me- tell me, please, please- whatever it is- is everything okay?” The talking from the phone comes again, and Ymir sighs and smiles with tears in her eyes halfway through the words. Once the phone goes quiet, Ymir laughs slightly. “Thank you- thank you so much for calling me. God bless you.” She hangs up and puts her phone on the dresser. She lunges forward to Christa in a hug.

 

Christa hugs her back, but very confused. “What happened?”

 

“It was the hospital.” Ymir said in the crook of Christa’s neck. “He just woke up. They apologized for calling at midnight- Jesus, I don’t even care. I’m so glad he’s okay.”

 

“Ymir, that’s wonderful! Do you want to go see him tomorrow?”

 

“ _Yes_ , God yes.”

 

They hug tighter.

 

“And you didn’t even have to tell Marco.” Christa says.

 

Ymir laughs one of the loudest laughs Christa’s ever heard.

 

Christa smiles more. “But who called you before? The hospital wouldn’t have called twice.”

 

“Don’t care.” Ymir smiles. “Right now, I wanna fuck you ‘till you’re screaming.”

 

Christa blushes. “That sounds nice.”

* * *

 

Connie just cannot get his mind off of the blond kid. It’s a half hour after midnight, and he has class at nine, and he’s just laying in his bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about some twink with a bowl cut, blue eyes, and a tiny nose.

 

The guy seems so nice. He looks like a middle schooler, sure, but he’s just… so nice? Connie can’t really put his finger on what he likes so much. Just. It’s something. Desperation, maybe? Possibly.

 

Connie wants to get to know him. Wants to see how smart he is. He sure does look smart. Wants to see how messy his handwriting is. Or neat. Smart people usually have neat writing, right?

 

He also wants to know what his name is.

 

Wow. Yeah, that’s typical, Connie. Getting hung up on something- in this case, someone- he doesn’t even know the name of. How did he let himself like that guy? He doesn’t know anything about him. Hell, he doesn’t even know if the guy likes other guys.

 

Fuck, he’s acting like Sasha. And Jean now too, apparently. Getting all wrapped up in people they hardly know. When did they become so desperate? So lovesick and boring?

 

Okay, so maybe not boring. Boring is married with two kids and an office job. He doesn’t think any of his friend group is boring. Lovesick and desperate, maybe, but he looks back on them and yeah, he realizes that they’re anything but boring. Hell, the two of his friends already fucked the two that they’re puppies over. And it’s been like, what, a week? Not even that. Like, four days. And yet all three of them are fawning over their stupid middle school -esque crushes. Except the difference between his two friends and him is that he hasn’t had a jerk off with _his_ middle school -esque crush.

 

Jean is maybe, _maybe_ excusable, since he’s known Marco for a couple months- but he only _just_ realized that he actually likes the guy. He was living in some sort of weird, almost abusive state of denial and possessiveness. Connie just hopes that Jean cuts that shit out for just one second; for Marco’s sake.

 

Sasha, however, is inexcusable. She met Mikasa four days ago, while he and Jean have known her for years. As if it’s not weird enough that they had sex the day they met, Sasha knew that she was having sex with a girl that Jean had already liked. Sasha and Mikasa’s thing- whatever it is- is all shades of fucked up.

 

So yeah. Desperate, petty, lovesick, pathetic- but not boring. That’s for sure.

  
Ugh. He just wants to see the blond kid.

**Author's Note:**

> one friday night ur thinkin abt romcoms next thing u know ur writing the longest thing uve ever shit out of ur asshole
> 
> tell me how garbage it was on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being the garbage at taco bell and 10 being the garbage at red lobster. like i mean it. leave lots of comments, even if theyre just roasting me into oblivion, because i can already tell this isnt gonna get a lot of hits and i need attention ily
> 
> my tumbl is @memekasasha send me anon hate


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